


I Will Share Your Road

by ShirlyGallagher



Series: Fear Cuts Deeper Than Swords [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Banter, Bathing/Washing, Childhood Friends, Confessions, Dancing, Domestic, Domestic Bliss, Explorers, F/M, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Gambling, Gratuitous Smut, Married Life, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Reminiscing, Shameless Smut, Slow(ish) Burn, Smut, Swordfighting, Wanderlust, Wolf Dreams, but not really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:23:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22780147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShirlyGallagher/pseuds/ShirlyGallagher
Summary: Arya and Gendry are back in Westeros after their five-year voyage at sea...The adventurous duo had explored their world and absorbed as much as they were able from the people and places they encountered...But soon, family, friends and familiarity call to them and beckon them home...
Relationships: Arya Stark & Gendry Waters, Arya Stark/Gendry Waters
Series: Fear Cuts Deeper Than Swords [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1524302
Comments: 125
Kudos: 185





	1. The Crossroads Inn

"What's a lady like you doing in a shithole like this?" The innkeeper asked as Arya entered the lively tavern.

She remained silent a long while as she inspected her surroundings, moving cautiously, hand instinctively on her Needle. 

The set up there was as they left it, only run by someone new. Not the ill-tempered Masha Heddle and her ugly husband, but an unfriendly face all the same. Stood before her now was a portly fellow, with missing teeth and wispy grey hair. He was dressed in filthy garb, covered in an even dirtier apron with a sour look and smell about him. He remained behind the bar as busty serving maids tended to the patrons around the warm room with skirts swishing and unwanted hands groping. Nearly every table was filled with two or more men, not a single woman to be seen, aside from the ale attendants. 

These men's merriment muted to a low hum as Arya made her way further inside. She felt the heavy weight of their eyes, sensed their intentions, and silently shuttered to herself at the thought. She approached the counter with a slow authority, and as she neared, the old man's postured turned straight rigid.

"What makes you think I'm a lady?" She asked him cooly.

"Can tell a lot about someone from the look of 'em."

"Is that so?"

"Aye." 

Arya sat atop an off-kilter wooden stool and folded her hands against the wood grain counter, "Enlighten me."

"Well, you're clean, for start. No dirt under your nails neither. You've got yourself some fair skin. Some healthy teeth and hair. So, I figure, you're either a well-kept whore or a lady." He threw his sloppy rag over his shoulder and smirked, "And judging by your clothes and those castle forged weapons, I'd say you be of noble birth." He seemed confident in his answers, however shaky his voice was delivering them.

Arya tapped her pointer finger against the rim of an empty earthenware tankard sat next to a jug. The innkeeper stepped forward slowly and filled the cup. 

"Or might be that I'm a skilled thief." She explained.

He huffed, "You didn't answer m' question, m' lady."

Arya quenched her thirst by downing the ale in long gulps, polishing off the contents effortlessly. It was strong, and more bitter than she usually liked but cool and rounded all the same. They'd been on the road for six days now with only water, spiced wine and tea to drink. So the foamy ale slid down her throat easily. She cocked an eyebrow and silently gestured for him to fill her cup once more. 

He obliged with haste this time.

"I'm looking for someone." She said.

The old keep looked baffled, "Here?"

"Yes."

"Someone passing through, I reckon?"

"No, he lived here."

"Here?" He gaped again. 

Arya could sense the man's panic building, saw the sweat forming along his brow line.

"A boy. Rather, a man now, I'm sure."

"It looks as though you've caught the eye of near every man here." He tried to joke, "But, who might you be looking for in my inn?"

"He was a baker here, last we left him."

"We?"

She felt the air still then, a brawny shadow darkening the doorway. Arya smirked to herself. Unlike the others, she didn't need to turn and gawk. She knew who was gracing the threshold. His footfalls were heavy and determined as he came to the counter. 

**_Big clumsy bull..._**

Gendry carried in their saddlebags, having left their mounts with the stable hands for tending and feeding. He dropped their bags at her feet before turning to blatantly look to each pair of glaring gazes dead on, his shoulders squared and eyes narrowed.

They had been travelling for almost five full years when they docked at White Harbour not two moons ago.

They spent those two turns mulling about Winterfell unhurried and unbothered. The castle had since been repaired, the walls were standing once more, the town folk in Winter Town flourishing. Queen Sansa made fast work of repairing her queendom, along with aiding in the restoration of The Wall. She and Jon had overseen the immigration of their new wildling neighbours, as well, building strong alliances with the free folks along the way. The north was thriving one again, trading in major ports and creating revenue of their very own. Spring had finally come.

Arya and Gendry's five-year sea voyage aboard their ship _The Wayward Seeker_ had ventured them near everywhere and taught them a great deal. It showed them the world's wonders and took from them very little in return. It was thrilling, captivating, informative, and best of all; theirs.

Once they saw what Essos had to offer they sailed even farther east, only to find the Iron Islands, confirming Arya's suspicions; that their world was a sphere.

Once they made that discovery they meandered down the coastline, pushing south, stopping and exploring each port, venturing inland, and taking in the surrounding terrains.

After the Iron Islands, they skipped from Faircastle to Kayce, from Crakeball to the Shield Islands and on to Blackcrown. They dipped into the Whispering Sound to find Old Town, on the Honeywine they saw the Citadel, inland they took in the Thieves Market and a short skiff ride took them to The Bloody Isle. They explored the Three Towers, the isle of The Arbor, Sunbouse followed by Star Fall, Salt Shore then on to Lemonwood.

Dorne's capital; SunSpear, held their attention for a few moons. Prince Olyvar Sand happily housed them, wined and dined them, showered them in exotic lavishes and showed off his court and kingdom, but soon they were on their way again. They came up the coast, delving into each port in the Sea of Dorn, after, Cape Wrath showed them the Ghost Hill, Weeping Tower, and GreenStone.

Storm's End held their attention even longer than SunSpear had, keeping them in the stormlands a near six turns before they set sail once again. Edric and Mya still held the castle, with Ser Davos still aiding as an advisor. With everyone happy and everything in order, Arya and Gendry planned the next stretch of their journey.

When the Lord and Lady of Storm's End were satisfied that their house was well in order they restocked and continued on to see Rain House, Evenfall Hall and then the rest of Tarth. They sailed for StoneDance, saw Dragonsone then the Claw Isle and even GullTown. The Bay of Crabs was aptly named and showed them Maidenpool, Saltpans, and Wickenden next. Once in The Eyrie, they stopped at Runestone, Old Anchor then the small islands of Pebble and The Paps. They stopped at each of the Three Sisters before finally docking in White Harbour.

After spending so much time adrift and ashore in strange lands and strange beds, being somewhere so familiar had Arya and Gendry longing for more of the same. They contemplated staying in Winterfell longer than they did, but their wayward spirits left a nagging feeling deep in their bones, their thirst for adventure still unquenched. So Arya showed Gendry every bit of the north she could, took him to every beautiful, rugged, and powerful place she knew. She showed off every inch of her ancestral habitat and taught him every northern custom he could handle. Gendry was clearly awestruck and admitted that he didn't know such beauty could exist within such a harsh claimant.

But, if they'd learned anything as of late, it was to believe anything possible. Quite literally.

Winterfell and King's Landing were a sennight in either direction now, with the inn at the Crossroads naturally being their halfway point. Their travels were never rushed anymore, they took their time, stayed longer if they wanted, left early if they felt it. This easy-going itinerary was likely something each carried with them from their time on the run. If one had the time to take, might as well take it.

"Is he still here?" Gendry asked as he sat at her side.

"We're waiting on bated breath for this gentle fellow to answer."

With his eyes wide the keeper wouldn't look away from Gendry, "You're after my baker?"

"Perhaps, if he's who we're looking for," Arya answered.

The innkeep shifted his weight and looked around nervously. Arya fidgeted too, feeling herself grow impatient and tied of the run-around, but she tried not to show any annoyance.

"He goes by Hot Pie," Gendry said as he knocked his knuckles against the solid block bar top.

The innkeep hurried him a cup and filled it to the brim, "Who be lookin' for the lad?"

Arya answered quickly, "Friends."

"Friends?" Clearly, without thought, the old man continued, "You pair don't look the friendly type."

"What do we look like?" She snipped.

"Best not say, with those blades at your hips, m'lady." He threw a thumb at Gendry, "His stature and steel to boot."

"We knew Hot Pie a long time ago." Arya soothed.

"He's a good boy. He won't be wanting for any trouble."

"He is here then,"

The old man flushed, "Bollocks."

"We travelled with him. During the War of Kings."

Gendry let out a bitter laugh, "Is that what we're calling it now?" He asked her.

She rolled her eyes and turned back to the innkeeper, "Well? Is he here?"

A maid purposely brushed past Gendry on her way to grab another jug of ale, and her proximity seemed to spark the innkeeper's honesty.

"He's gone to town. 'Ought to be back by sundown."

"We'll take a room for the night then," Gendry said swiftly.

"Top floor if you have it."

"As you like." The innkeep replied, "Girl, ready the top rooms for our guests."

"One room will be sufficient," Arya said to the petite redhead. She gave a quick curtsey and scurried away, under the ever watchful eye of her keeper.

"She's new. A run off from the wreck. Hasn't spoken a word since she arrived."

"The wreck?" Gendry asked as he also finished his ale.

The keeper filled his tankard again as he spoke, "Aye. T' was a ship off The Crag. More than a fortnight ago. Pirates. Took everything. Raped and plundered the rest. They say."

Arya cocked an eyebrow once again, "They?"

"Aye, they. You know; folks. Travellers. Bards. Knights. Brothers in Black and the like."

"Haven't heard of much piracy since King Bran was elected," Arya said defensively.

"Aye, the young King's reach is long, but many a vermin slip through the cracks, y' know, or claim innocence just to show another face."

Gendry gave her a puzzled look.

They'd not experienced anyone noteworthy on their journey in from the north, not so much as a lone beggar and everything else seemed in order. The fact that this was the first they were hearing of these events was awfully strange.

"Who might I tell my baker be lookin' for him?"

"Arya Stark." She said, tossing a nod at her smith sitting by her side, "And my husband, Gendry Baratheon." She explained proudly.

The innkeeper turned white, "You be the King's sister?"

_**Among other things...** _

"Yes." Arya felt like stirring the pot a bit more and added, "Sister to the Queen in the North, as well, of course."

"By the gods." The man muttered, embarrassment plain as day across his wrinkled face, "The royal family, in my inn..." He looked about for other eager ears, "You're sure here's where you'd like to be stayin'?"

"Aye. We'll take some dinner as well." Gendry said, habitually unaffected by the old man's fumbling.

People's pampering had bothered Gendry a great deal, for a long while. He'd grown used to the kind of rough formalities and customs his storm lords had. He'd grown used to waving decorum away in favour of feeling normal and having his wishes of crude formality heeded to obediently. But now anywhere new they went, their names were known. Sometimes they chose fake names, depending on the city or region. Sometimes they didn't, and when they didn't people always fussed. He loathed the fussings. However, where Gendry hated the coddling, Arya could tune it out easily enough.

"I'll have the girls fetch something fitting from the cellar. A feast fit for such esteem."

"There's no need for all that." Gendry replied, "We're easy to please and would rather not be fussed over."

"You must let me bring up some wine then."

"No. No fuss." Gendry said, firm.

"Very well, m'lord."

After another refill each the redheaded serving girl returned. She came and tried to lift their bags, but each were far too heavy for her gentle frame.

Gendry saw her struggle and kindly shooed her off, "I'll take 'em."

Avoiding eye contact the wisp of a girl bowed and scurried off, tending to her chores again, forever watched.

Arya stood as Gendry lifted both heavy sacks easily. He strode up the narrow stairs as she moved to sit near the fire. She removed her cloak and sat with her feet propped towards the roaring flames.

The last few days riding had taken a lot out of her, she felt lethargic despite the daylight with her feet and legs throbbing. The activity within the tavern returned to a normal volume, but she could still feel the unwelcome stares on her. She should be used to stranger's untrusting eyes by now, but every new set still felt like a potential threat. Travelling solidified that notion. Though their travels were mostly uneventful in that regard, and only a few occasions called for either her or Gendry to unsheathe their weaponry.

Still, she couldn't help but feel on guard.

Gendry joined her soon after, interrupting her unease, bringing a calmness with him. He sat heavily, propping his boots next to hers, his ankles hooked.

"We wait then." He commented.

"It's nearly nightfall."

He waved over a woman and held two fingers up to her. Without words, she turned and brought them a jug of ale which she placed on the table between their two chairs. Arya watched her leave, watched how she tossed her hair over her shoulder, watched how she swayed her hips just a bit more for her audience. She couldn't fault the girl, given their surroundings. Survival wore many faces.

"Should we be worried?" Gendry asked as he poured them both a fresh mug of ale.

"No."

"Didn't think so." He replied slouching back in his chair.

Hours passed, patrons came, drunks went, maids giggled, men pawed, all while Arya and Gendry drank and beat each other at tiles.

"You're cheating," Gendry informed her, slurring only slightly.

Arya's head was warm and fuzzy too, she smiled wide at him, "How? You can count my tiles!" She sat back to show him her lap, turning her hands over a few times as further proof.

"You're sneaky. Some sleight of hand."

"Or you're just terrible at this game."

"I'm better at dice."

"You're not. Besides, that's a game of chance." Arya smirked wryly, "Tiles takes strategy."

"What are you implying, my lady?" He asked, his timbre shifting into a raspy and deeper tone.

"Hot Pie." She blurted out.

Gendry frowned, clearly looking for a different reaction, "What?"

She nodded towards the double doors to where their old friend stood aghast.

"Arry?"

Arya stood, "Hello, Hot Pie."

He had grown at least a foot, maybe two. Much to her chagrin, it seemed that she was the only one who didn't gain much hight in their adult life. Hot Pie had grown into his girth too, as it were, and had even grown the shadow of a beard. But, Arya noticed his confident smile first. He was always quick with a laugh, but now his smile crinkled at the corners of his eyes and made him look well and truly happy. He held himself tall.

Hot Pie's gaze landed on her bull as he stood alongside her, "Gendry?"

He nodded, "Aye, good t' see you."

"Who are they?" A woman asked from behind Hot Pie.

He had yet to answer, he stood stunned, looking Gendry and Arya over, shifting his gaze between them, back and forth. Finally, he shook his shock and spoke, "My friends. From a lifetime ago."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!
> 
> Be sure to comment...
> 
> Much love.


	2. With A Little Help From My Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm overjoyed with the comments I've gotten on this story so far! Thank you all for taking the time, it really helps with my motivation!!
> 
> ~~~

"Well don't just stand there, Hot Pie! Fetch me the rest." The woman ordered with a specific nod back outside.

A mess of curly blonde hair pinned atop her head bounced as she walked and framed her weathered but comely face roughly. She was shapely in a way that Arya never had been, with the curve of her hips and bust ample and glaring.

Every so often Arya wished she was more like the curvy girl she studied now, but most times she was happy with how she looked. It had taken time, with how she was treated in her youth, but that was long ago. Now she appreciated her lithe body, it helped her move quickly, left her stealthy and graceful. Not only that, but her husband never complained, quite the opposite, in fact.

Still, she swallowed a bloom of envy.

"Can we help?" Gendry offered.

"No need. Sit. Drink. I'll be joining you shortly." Hot Pie replied.

With that Arya and Gendry sat in their respective seats by the fireplace again, poured a few cups and got comfortable while they waited.

"Who's the girl?" Her bull asked.

"Likely his woman." She replied plainly.

"You think so?"

"I do."

"Hot Pie's?"

She gave him a smirk and tilt of her head, "You seem shocked."

"She's just..." Gendry paused and thought a moment, screwing up his handsome face as he did so, "She doesn't look the type. She must be at twenty years his senior."

Arya shrugged, "We'll find out soon enough."

"Do you care to wager on it?" Gendry prompted.

"I'm listening."

"If they are together, you win."

She smiled impishly, "What will I win?"

"If you win, you choose your prize."

"I like that."

"But, if I win, and they're not together, I get the same." He smirked.

"The prize is of the winner's choosing?"

"That's right."

She matched his now mischievous smile with one of her own, "I'm in."

They shook on it, firm and serious but when Arya went to free her hand Gendry only held it tighter. He drew her knuckles up to his lips and kissed the back of her hand, once, twice, then let his grip go. But, she didn't pull away. Not at all. Instead, she held his hand while unconsciously leaning closer towards him, swept up in their soft moment and the clear blue pools of his eyes.

Hot Pie's forced cough from behind them broke their spell.

"What's this then?" He demanded with a playful smile. He waved his hand between the two of them, eyebrows raised in question, clearly waiting on an explanation.

Arya shrugged, "We got married."

Gendry scoffed a laugh, likely at her veracity, but nodded his agreement when their old friend looked for his confirmation.

"It was all very surprising, when I heard, y' know." Hot Pie explained as he sat.

He had brought a fresh frothing flagon of ale with him and a large bowl of roasted spiced nuts. Gendry took a handful as soon as he was able, stuffing his mouth with as much as it could hold.

"I was surprised it happened too," Gendry replied after a few chews.

The menfolk laughed and Arya punched Gendry hard in the arm. He clutched his bicep in shock, mocking pain, pouting his lip a bit more for his audience.

"We get all kinds of news here. But I thought for sure someone was trying to pull the wool over my eyes."

"No. It's the truth."

"How did this even happen?"

"Gendry became a lord and suddenly wanted lordly things." Arya jabbed.

"I'm not the one who travelled days and days just to see me."

"Yes, you are."

Gendry frowned and slumped back in his chair. Obviously, Arya knew how he really ended up in Winterfell, knew all the finer details that brought him past The Wall and then to her family's home, but it was fun to taunt him all the same.

"Don't stop on my account." Hot Pie joked as he looked between their pair.

Gendry went ahead and slid his chair closer to her, leaning his body onto her armrest as they spoke. His grimace turned into a sly smile but he argued no further. He took the opportunity to shove more nuts into this trap instead.

"For true, though, tell me how it happened."

And so they did.

They spoke of everything that had come to pass since their trio was split up, the highs and the lows and even the in-betweens. Arya did most of the talking, as per usual, explaining everything in great detail to a captivated Hot Pie. They talked of The Long Night; the battle for Winterfell and of dragons and the sacking of King's Landing, then of Gendry's unforeseen lineage. He spoke fondly of Storm's End, and of Davos, Mya and Edric. They talked of their travels as husband and wife, where they'd been, and strange oddities they'd seen.

Arya spoke of a wonderful lemon pie from Dorne, of the baker woman there who told her the secret was cold butter and wasn't it the finest flakiest crust she'd ever had. She gushed about the most exotic chocolates from Lys and colourful edible flowers from Meereen. She regaled Hot Pie with stories of sensual belly dancers, of sword swallowers and street performers from Braavos and the rest of The Free Cities. Gendry talked of fine steel, of irregular blacksmithing techniques and of precious gemstones from around their world, and then spoke of learning how to read and swim and ride a horse properly.

Over the years Hot Pie had honed his skills as well. He learned to read and write and build a proper fire. With practice, his baking skills improved immensely. Soon he had mastered his trade so well that people came to say folks often visited the Crossroads for the food first and whores and ale second. Hot Pie's lodging was just a stone's throw away from the inn too, where he kept a tiny cabin. There he tended to a small brood of animals; a gaggle of geese, a milking goat, a flock of chickens and he was even saving for his own spot of land just a mile north up the road.

The night wore on and they sank deep into their cups, talking candidly of how strange their journeys had been and the madness that had gotten them into their current settings.

Soon the girl whom Hot Pie arrived with brought out their dinner; a well-seasoned boar and barley stew swimming in vegetables, with fresh flaky biscuits and sweet clotted cream on the side. She didn't say anything and didn't serve anyone else either. She did, however, linger and watch them tuck into their meal, though neither of Arya's male companions seemed to notice. The girl left just as quickly and quietly as she arrived, actively brushing past Hot Pie in the process.

"So, who's the maid in the green dress?" Arya asked once they had finished their delicious meal.

"She's the cook. Thea."

"And she's your lady love?" Arya prompted.

"No." Hot Pie flushed outright crimson, "No, we're just... friends. I'm not her... I'm not what she's after. I'm just her friend."

"What do you mean?"

"She's a widow. No more than a year ago, I knew her husband. Besides, she's old enough to be my mother."

"So?"

Arya and Gendry knew better than most that age was just a sum. Though their gap wasn't anything to glance twice at, long ago it had once been glaring. Now, years later, no one looked twice, nor should they. However, where normally the woman would be younger than the man, Hot Pie and Thea's situation was reversed. There was absolutely nothing wrong there, just other's misconceptions. Arya and Gendry both knew that the Dothraki had large families with multiple mothers and wives, all ranging in age. In the Iron Islands the 'Old Way' stated that a man could have as many Salt Wives as he wished and even the Free Folk thought that if a younger man was able to steal an older woman or a widow from a neighbouring clan that it was a gift, that the man was favoured, it was even viewed as lucky.

"She's interested in you," Arya said.

Hot Pie looked to his lap, "She's not."

"She is. I'm sure of it."

"How do you know?"

"A woman can tell."

"You're lying."

Arya scowled, "Did you see how she squeezed in extremely close just to pass between our chairs?"

Hot Pie was suddenly intrigued, "Aye."

"There was plenty of room on my side for her to pass."

"So?"

"She wanted to press herself to you."

"Do you think?"

"I do." Arya said taking a long drag from her tankard, "Tell me, does she fiddle with her dress or her hair as you two are talking?"

"Aye. Sometimes."

"And does she find little reasons to be with you, to spend extra time alone with you?"

"Well, yes, but it's just us going to town for supplies. There's no need for her to come, but she always insists."

"Does she laugh at all your stupid jokes?"

"They're not all stupid."

Gendry and Arya both chuckled before she continued on, "Does she taunt you lightheartedly?"

Hot Pie paused before he replied, "Sometimes."

"Don't be obvious now but look at her behind the bar. She's been mooning over here since before she served us supper."

Hot Pie made a quick glance in Thea's direction and didn't her smile back at him light up the whole damn room.

"Interested in the royal family, likely." He replied, bashful.

"More like interested in you."

Gendry didn't say anything as Arya put the query to poor Hot Pie, he just nursed his ale and smirked. She felt his heavy stare on her and wondered if he had connected the dots to her actions from their past. She wondered if she'd given away some coveted womanly secret. And so what if she had? Gendry was hers, and she his. What did it matter if when she was young she showed it in ways a maid might have?

"I do think she's pretty."

"She is pretty."

"We get along very well."

Arya looked to Gendry, catching him staring her down and gave him a soft smile before turning back to Hot Pie.

"I wager that if you made your move, she would respond positively." She said.

"My move?"

"Yes. Either by way of confession or action."

"Action?!"

"Yes. Action. A kiss, perhaps?"

"No." Hot Pie kept his gaze on his lap now, "I've never kissed anyone."

"It's easy. No one knows what they're doing the first time... Just find a proper moment, lean in nearly to her lips and wait for her to bridge the gap."

"Just like that?" Hot Pie seemed skeptical, but both Arya and Gendry nodded in agreement. "If you're wrong, I ruin a perfectly good friendship."

"I'm not wrong."

"Come now, Arry. Don't pressure the lad." Gendry said empathetically.

"I'm not. Just a healthy nudge. What are friends for?"

The trio laughed and talked well into the night. By the time they were yawning only the sloppiest patrons were left, and a bare-bones crew of serving wenches remained for tending and cleaning.

"I have to get some sleep. I'm up first around here." Hot Pie yawned.

"It's been a long day," Arya replied.

"How long might you both be staying?"

"Just the night," Gendry said.

"You'll have breakfast here though?"

"Of course. So long as there are more biscuits and cream."

"For you, Arry? I'll set some aside." 

"See you in the morn then." 

Hot Pie rose and stretched out dramatically before heading to the kitchens in the back.

Gendry stood next and offered her a hand up, which she accepted graciously, "Our featherbed awaits, m'lady."


	3. No Featherbed

The slim steep staircase wove them up to the attic, which housed two rooms, each set into the alcove nook of the inn's pitched roof.

It was warmer in their camber, sat high above the cold dirt floors and whitewashed stone walls below. But the room felt crowded as they entered, needlessly stuffed with too much bulky furniture. A double bed laid under a small window, an end table on each side, with an unlit oil lamp sat atop respectively. The bed was covered in old furs and a patchwork quilt, it looked plush, but they both knew no feather bed would be found here, not anymore. Instead, the mattress was stuffed with straw, sweet-smelling and lumpy.

Pushed against neighbouring walls and tucked under slanted ceilings Arya counted stacks of unused or slightly broken chairs, a few high in each pile, and a heavy armoire which was unsurprisingly empty, save for some cobwebs and dust. A small ship's stove warmed the room and tallow candlelight from a small tabletop helped aluminate the cramped lodgings. Once behind closed doors, they both stopped to consider the space.

"Better sleeping arrangements than the last time we were here." Gendry shrugged.

"At least it's not the ground."

He shook his head in disbelief, "It feels odd. Being back here. With Hot Pie."

Arya took her weapons off and laid them on a nearby table, moving to ditch her leathers next. She nodded as she moved through each routine task, "I agree."

They didn't talk much of their time with Yoren, or their time with the Brotherhood without Banners, or of their time at Harrenhal. Those years were filled with painful memories, memories they both silently agreed to never truly speak of.

She often wondered what was going on in his mind back then, what he was thinking, or what he might have been plotting. But she never asked, and he never devalued details voluntarily.

Then again, neither did she.

They were of the mind that the only thing mattered now was them, in that instant, and next; their future. It was never spoken out loud or even implied, but it was an unspoken undercurrent of truth that ran within their new life together.

Through their travels much about each other had come up, many stories, many tidbits, many likes, dislikes, desires and fears had surfaced. She learned a great deal more about Gendry, simply from travelling the high seas with him. And she had shared the same.

But the painful past? Well, most of that should be left where it lay.

Still, being back in the setting of a long-forgotten nightmare had questions bubbling at the surface. Their surroundings sparked her inquisitive nature and had questions dancing on the tip of her tongue. She felt curious, bursting with wonderment as if she were a child again. Truth be told, the ale made her tongue sharp and her reasoning weak.

Eager to rid herself of her sweat and travel-stained clothing Arya stripped down quickly. Once in just her tunic, she moved to their small wood burning stove, where a clay jug and basin sat on a nearby end table.

The water was lukewarm, at best, but smelled deeply of lye and mint. Arya poured a small amount of water into the basin and sank an off-white linen cloth into the slightly silky suds. She wrung out the excess and pressed the damp fabric to her face. She washed the day's travel off her skin, dragging the cloth over her neck and collarbones before cleaning the sweat from behind her ears and around her hairline. She washed her hands with the extra liquid in their basin before sinking the rag into a pour of fresh water.

She could hear Gendry fumbling around behind her, clunky and cumbersome as he took off his weaponry and leathers too. He sat heavily on the bed, which creaked under his weight, then unlaced his boots, kicking them off with a few thuds.

With her rag in hand, Arya turned to Gendry sitting at the edge of their bed, barefooted and shirtless. He was occupied with working the ties loose on his trousers but stopped mid-motion when Arya moved across their small room. He watched her as she came to stand in front of him, a silent question in her eyes, a small smirk playing at her lips. Wordlessly he understood and shuffled his knees open wider, making room for her hips between his thighs.

Close and careful Arya pushed his floppy ink-black hair off his forehead and wiped his brow, then the bridge of his nose and cheekbones, followed by his jawline next. She dragged the cloth down his neck and across his collarbones, sweeping in behind each ear, watching her hands work as they moved slowly across his body. He'd lost some of the bronzed tone his skin once held, on account of spending less and less time in the smithy or working outdoors nowadays, but she mapped his familiar scars and marks all the same.

Gendry had his eyes locked on her, watching her intently, that look of awe and adoration still affixed to his handsome features, even after all these years spent swept up in wanderlust.

It was his look of care, she came to realize, many moons ago now. Arya felt a thrill slither up her spine under his heavy stare anyway and noticed the preen of her posture. She lapped the rag over his strong shoulders and slid down his chest next, admiring all the while. He sagged forward with a sigh and pressed his forehead softly to her breastbone while she moved her cloth up and down both his arms.

This calm intimacy buzzed through the silence, thick and heady. Though in truth, they had been this way since their start, only it was different now, and evermore since their marriage. They were bound and bonded, and each relished in a calmness that the other held. Theirs was an affinity like none other, they knew.

The gentle caress of the sweet-smelling cloth left no bit of his skin untouched and her deliberate movements held promises of what was known and of what was still to come. He breathed in, immersed, allowed his body to relax, sagged deeper and let her mold him to her will.

Arya washed his wrists and hands thereafter, sliding fabric between each finger, before moving to clean his chest, again. He smiled to himself as her fingers lingered, tracing down the rivets of his stomach muscles, fingertips skimming along the waistline of his breeches, toying gently with the laces.

"Did you think of me?" Arya asked him quietly.

His response was quick and eager as his gaze snapped up to meet hers again, "What?"

She smiled at his surprise, "Did you think of me?"

He straightened out his stature, "Yes."

Arya smirked and draped her wrists over his shoulders, dangling her cloth down the length of his back, swishing it back and forth, "Even back then?"

With a shiver, he replied, "Of course."

"Did you think of me like this?" She inquired, dropping her tone just slightly.

He gulped, "No."

"No?" She asked, sharp and skeptical, but still, he shook his head, "Not even once?"

He steeled himself and shook his head again, "I couldn't."

"Couldn't?"

"We were always on the run, from some kind of danger or another."

"We were."

"We were so young."

**_He's nervous..._ **

"We were." Arya agreed again as she stepped in even closer. She pressed on, "Did you think of other girls?"

Gendry took hold of her hips and drew her in, her soft tunic bunching under his grip, "The first naked woman I saw up close was that red priestess." He said bitterly.

Arya frowned at the red women's mention, but shook the sour feeling, "I know."

"You were always on my mind, Arry. I thought of you all the time." He confessed as he squeezed her hips tighter. She playfully rolled her eyes at him, but he continued, "Especially more so once we were separated."

She didn't like to think of that time either. It still stung, years later. "Tell me what you thought of."

He smiled, thinking a moment before he told her, "I thought of you in a blue dress, feasting, reunited with your family. I thought of you clean, but with muddy boots. I thought of you getting your own bow, and a bigger Needle, one that fit you proper. I thought of you alongside your towering wolf."

"Direwolf." She corrected.

It was Gendry's turn to roll his eyes now but he smirked wryly before continuing, "I thought of you and Nymeria running through thickets, with yellow leaves tangled up in your hair and her fur, you breathless with laughter."

She melted at the imagery, "Gendry..."

"I did, Arya. I thought of you all the time." He stopped, swallowing hard as if the next words would be harder than the rest, "But, when I caught word of the Red Wedding... Gods. I was so angry. I thought you were surely dead."

"Not today." She muttered under her breath.

"Aye. Not today." He whispered and licked at his lips, "After seeing you and then being with you in Winterfell, there again, I couldn't stop thinking of you."

Her smirk was menacing, "Go on."

"I thought of you every night. Fucking freezing to death on that too small cot in that cramped back room of your family's forge."

She laughed, low and rich, then repeated, "Go on."

"I've never wanted like that. I've never needed like that. I swear, I imagined us in near every way. It was your face I dreamt of when I closed my eyes at night, it was you I saw when I took myself in hand, your name I muttered as I lost control. You."

Arya didn't reply. She just bent in and pressed her lips to his.

The room stilled, the outside noise faded to nothing. The dull racket of some patrons still drinking in the tavern below became but a whisper. Nothing was left but them. Her lips. His tongue. Their hunger. Them. This kiss was familiar and invited, like the heat of a campfire to warm weary bones, melting in deep, permeating and tingling.

Before Arya knew it Gendry had sifted and was ardently guiding her to sit astride his lap. She followed his lead without any hesitation, settling down heavy, smoothly pressing herself to him with a sway of her hips against his strained hard cock. His groan fueled her and their kiss built, growing deeper and hungrier with each nip, sigh or push. Their tongues touched thoughtfully as his hands roved up her back and down to her ass while her own pushed through his thick tresses to cradle the back of his skull.

"Did you think of me?" He asked as they parted, hopeful and breathless.

Her soft panting breaths matched his own and she replied, "I did."

"Like this?"

Arya nodded and bent in to kiss him again, quick and chaste this time, despite her positioning, "Yes."

The timbre of his voice was anything but chaste, "When?"

"Harrenhal."

"Really?"

She nodded again, chewing at her lip, watching Gendry lick his, feeling warmth flood her as he purposefully lifted his hips to meet her own subtle rutting, "I didn't know what I was thinking at first, or what I was feeling. But, I came to understand it quickly."

He smiled knowingly, "And what did you think of?"

With a tilt of her head, she replied, "I'd watch you work, admire your strength, your skill, your focus, your body. I'd wonder what it might be like to feel the power of your hands on me."

"Go on." He mimicked back.

"I thought of what it might be like to kiss you."

"You did?"

"I did."

"Harrenhal?" He reiterated in shock.

She shrugged, borderline bashful, "Why is that so surprising?"

He didn't answer, just gave her a slight raise of his brow, "Then what?"

"We escaped."

"And..."

"I found your opinion was the only one I cared to hear."

He drew her closer, "Go on."

"I found myself shuffling nearer to you while we slept."

"I noticed."

"You didn't."

"I did. But, I thought you were just cold."

"Not just." Arya felt a wave of sadness as she prepared her next words, "I was so sure you'd stay with me."

He wilted, "I'm sorry I didn't."

"I'm not sure it would have mattered. The Brotherhood would have sold you regardless, even if you had agreed to stay and smith for Robb."

"You think?"

She softened back into the moment, "I do."

"Then what?" Gendry asked, quickly trying to change the subject.

"Then you were gone." She said bitterly, "Though I refused to believe you were truly dead."

At the time, she'd been too angry to think Gendry dead. She added names to her list for the sake of him, muttered his foes into her mantra night after night, still switching their order to freshen their memory. He was too damn stubborn to be dead, too bullheaded to accept that red witch as his end, and she was sure of it. But the longer she remained away, the farther away that old life became. Her training in Braavos dulled those memories to a faint fleeting light, one she felt herself clinging to in the darkness. She was Arya Stark. She was. She was all those names and memories and worse. That list had been her everything, and evermore so once she was alone. It tied her to their world, tethered her to the chaos and gave her purpose. But as she chose her family over her list at the Crossroads all those years ago, she thought she was choosing life over death too. Choosing family over vengeance, choosing love over hate.

Little did she know how much more she would have to choose.

"After Winterfell, after our last night together, I didn't believe I deserved the good feelings that came from thinking of you anymore. So, I stopped. I stopped thinking of you. I thought of nothing but my list, and killing, as though that was all I was. A killer with a list. A killer with a fate worse than death itself. Nothing more."

"You've always been so much more than that."

"To others, maybe. But at the time, not to myself."

"And now?"

"Now..." Arya mused, then bent in to plant another hungry kiss to his lips. He returned her vigour, griping and encouraging her against his lap, keen and avid as ever. "Now I'm more than I ever imagined I could be."

Gendry hummed his approval and kissed her deeply once more, his large hands palming over the meat of her thighs, rolling her narrow hips forward then back.

She felt her most powerful like this as if all the strength she knew within herself shone brightest with them this way. The high buzzing adrenalin felt akin to nothing else, and she relished in its intensity. Alit and connected both in body and being, she felt poured into the moment, curled and waving around every slight movement and hanging on every scant breath.

Their lovemaking hadn't lost its edge over the years, if anything it had gotten sharper with time, much sharper. But, that was to be expected, she supposed. They had learned so much of different cultures and customs around their world. They learned a great deal from others, how different regions accepted and performed certain tasks and traditions. Now they possessed a deeper knowledge of anatomy and of pressure points, of aphrodisiacs and of fetish, of pleasure and yes, even pain.

They learned that what someone did in the privacy of their own bedchambers was fluid, and knew no rules, no parameters, no borders. Sex had no rules other than trust, trust was the only common thread throughout it all.

And trust they had in groves.

Arya trusted Gendry with every bit of herself. Every scrap of her physical being and ever speck of her emotional self. It was a deeper trust than she'd ever known before, deeper than family ties, deeper than friendship, deeper than any faith, and didn't that thought alone turn her insides molten for him.

Their dynamic changed very little after their marriage, something Arya had been silently worried about. She was just as headstrong and bossy as ever, and Gendry was just as quick to be her voice of reason and keep her grounded. She felt safe and confident with him, felt supported and matched. It was true to their form, they changed not a bit. Save for the freedom of exploring each other's bodies.

And what sweet freedom that was.

Gendry pressed up to claim her lips again, long and slow, deep and devout. Arya felt herself sag into him, her hands coming down from his hair to migrate over his shoulders and chest. She moved sneaky hands between them to cup his cock and pull at the laces of his breeches, actively freeing him.

"Takes these off." She ordered, yet making no move to aid him.

With another ravenous kiss he lifted them both up and shimmied out of his breeches as best he could one-handed. He settled back down, keeping her in his lap, gracelessly trying to kick the threads down his legs. Arya let out a breathy chuckle as she delicately took him in hand again. His gruff gasping laugh widened her smile as she began to stoke. His helpless moan thrilled her and his grip on her hips tightened with every deliberate twist of her wrist. She knew now what he enjoyed just as acutely as she knew what she liked herself. So she rose her hips to meet her hand, her rhythm and technique adjusting to his groans and encouragement, and she was sure there was nothing more satisfying than hearing him moan for her.

"Lose this." Gendry panted as he nuzzled against her neckline, scrunching up her tunic with his nose.

Arya followed his request and quickly lost her threads. She had stopped binding her breasts when they left Winterfell, for ease, but more importantly for comfort and when her top fell to the floor they were finally bare. As a moth is drawn to flame Gendry greedily cupped both her tits in his warm hands, his rough palms sending goose flesh across her skin. He took care and laved at both purled nipple, taking each in his mouth, watching her head lull back in pleasure, before coming back up to kiss her lips again. She moaned into his kiss and took advantage of his slacked embrace to grasp ahold of his cock once more, and this time she didn't set an easy pace.

This time she fixed a steady rhythm, one they both knew wouldn't last.

"Arr-Arya... slow d-down," Gendry groaned.

She planted him with a heady kiss and replied, "No."

"Seven hells..." He gasped with his head tipped back.

She eyed him suspect, watching his eyes roll into his skull as she continued to stoke, "Do you really want me to slow down?"

Between hitched breath, he replied by shaking his head, "N-no."

She smiled wickedly then pressed kisses and bites into the delicate skin of his exposed throat, "Good... Very good, my love." She muttered against his ear.

Her praise was his breaking point and his release surged up and washed over him. With a low groan, he shuttered and spilled himself over her fist, soiling her stomach as much as his own in the process. He held her hips so hard she was sure she'd bruise, but it wouldn't be the first or last time he left his lusty mark upon her. She eased him through the waves of his pleasure, still awestruck at how good it felt to watch him come undone under her prowess, simply drunk on the power.

As Gendry regained his breathing he kissed her hard, his hands gripping her ass and twisting up into her hair now, angling her head deeper into his voracious kiss.

"You're somethin' else." He mumbled against her lips. He unwove his hand from her hair, smoothing it down the long thick plait that fell over her shoulder. He pulled at the thin strip of yellow leather that tied the end, and unravelled her long northern braid, "So beautiful."

Arya felt her skin flush and gave him a playful shrug as he drank in the sight of her. She was sure she looked just as wanton as he did, just as dishevelled, just as desperate. She kissed him once more before moving to clean them both up with her long-forgotten cloth.

The moment she was satisfied with the wash-up Gendry stood with her in his lap. His able hands slipped smoothly under her bottom to hoist her, as if she weighed not but a feather. Arya held him tight just long enough for him to turn and place her on the bed below him. His large frame loomed over her, strong arms caging her in, and she couldn't help but run her hands along their corded lengths. The feel of him pressed to her body had her aching for him, her need undeniable, he had her head spinning with want and anticipation.

His kiss was a slow nurse of lips now, painfully unhurried yet certain and skilled. Through her haze, she tried to pull his hips closer, tried to force contact by drawing him in with her legs, but he had other plans, he remained steadfast. His lips left the soft pillow of hers and found her chin, her jaw, her ears, her neck. The soft scratch of his cheek stubbled and the gentle tickle of his floppy hair felt just as lovely as the kisses themselves, the contrast of sensation leaving her reeling.

And then he travelled lower.

Her heart skipped as he gently kissed down her breastbone, trailing kisses along the swell of each breast next. He laved each peaked nipple, and she squirmed restlessly in return, grasping for him or the furs below, pawing at anything, trying to keep her wits about herself. His heavy hands followed the light caress of his lips and tongue. Once he had reached her navel he hooked his hands under her knees and yanked her ass to the edge of the bed. He kelt to the floor then, cushioned by his discarded pants and her tunic. His hands slid up the insides of her thighs to urge her open farther.

Arya relaxed, unabashed and spread wide for him. She pressed her body to the mattress with the first swipe of his velvet tongue, groaned with the second, cursed with the third. She arched and moaned as he lapped, and sucked and kissed at her sex, using every part of his glorious mouth to taste her depths. Blindly, she reached for his head and sank her fingers into his hair as she keened against his mouth. His throaty groan rattled deep as she pulled hard on his silky strands.

Gendry seemed apt on turning her crazed with his pace slow, his destination heedless and path unclear. He would pay attention to one lovely bit, just long enough to build her up, only to then move to another splendid space to repeat the same sweet torture.

"Use your fingers," Arya whined.

But he didn't listen.

Instead, Gendry pushed his grip into her thighs, forcing her wider, rolling her hips back so that she could no longer rest her feet on his shoulders. And he doubled his efforts.

Gods did he.

All too soon she could feel the bloom of release lick at her toes and travel up the length of her body.

She lost control of herself quite loudly, given their current surroundings. All starburst and shivers, mewls and trembles. However, just as quickly as she called out his name in pleasure, she covered her mouth, stifling the rest of her moans with the palm of her hand.

He smirked so smugly as she drifted back from bliss, looking up to her from between her thighs as he was. She couldn't help but chuckle, fogged in by an addled mind. He left her southern spaces then and tracked back up her body, pressing his kiss and touch in a path up to her lips.

When Arya could reach his jaw she pulled him in for a long, lusty kiss, tasting the unmistakable mark of herself on his tongue. There was no doubt that he was hard as rock again, and a shiver rolled over her at the dawning realization.

She couldn't take the tease any longer anyway, and in mid-kiss, she grappled him and rolled them both. He was on his back easily enough, yet his hands never left her. She knew Gendry let her move him, she knew that he was far stronger, knew that if he didn't want to be moved, he simply wouldn't be. But he let her anyway. He always let her.

After palming over her tits again Gendry gripped Arya's hips tight while she reached down and aligned them. She tossed her long hair to one side and sank down his cock slowly. The sensation drew a long sigh of relief from each, the splendid wave of satisfaction, disorientating and consuming.

Arya held her hands flat on his chest and rode him ably. Moving her hips just so, lifting just right, and falling in perfect cadence she drove their pace faster and harder. Gendry watched her as long as he could but soon his eyes were squeezed shut, his mouth hung agape and he resorted to encouraging her vocally, but blindly. Somewhere in their daze, he slapped her ass too, well, he connected with more thigh than anything else.

Arya yelped, all the same, simply delighted, and the sting felt so enticing that she felt herself tumbling towards yet another celestial peak. Her rhythm faltered and pleasure swept her up in an overwhelming rush of release before she could even catch a breath. She ground down hard on his cock, whining and pulsing and thrumming, her blunt nails digging into the flesh of his chest.

"Fuck...Arya..." Gendry growled in his own low warning.

He sat up and wrapped his arms around her middle, pulling her in, his release following suit. With his teeth sinking into the tender skin of her shoulder he muffled his groans while they basked in the harmony of their union.

They stayed entwined until their breathing evened out, with soft reassuring kisses pressed into heated overstimulated skin. Once unwoven and clean again they snuggled back into bed, naked and contented.

"So, who won then?" Arya asked after a long bout of comfortable silence.

"I won." He replied quickly.

"So confident." She scolded.

It'd gotten so warm in their little room by that point that Gendry had to close the flue on the stove and open their window wide. It was pouring rain outside with only slight pockets of moonlight breaking through the clouds.

It almost felt like Storm's End; it almost felt like home.

Gendry was laid out on his back now, eyes heavily lidded, an arm braced behind his head, his ankles locked, "They aren't together." He shrugged with an easy smile.

"They will be," she said tucking herself into the crook of his other arm.

Her head laid against his chest, his heartbeat steady below her ear. She traced between the scars and freckles that scattered across his midsection, forming maps and constellations, forever committing their path to her memory. She hooked her leg over his lap, shifting off the linens covering his modesty in her fidgeting.

"That wasn't the bet."

"Finer details," Arya explained cooly.

He laughed, "You won't be talkin' your way out of this one, Stark."

"Ever the Baratheon; winning simply by chance."

Gendry scoffed, "You're such a shit."

"And yet here you are."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> Be sure to stroke my ego with a comment or kudo...or both! You know, I'm not picky... 😃


	4. Misty Morning

Dawn crept in quickly, awakening waterfowl and songbirds alike on beams of forenoon sunlight.

The misty morning hung heavy in the valley, carpeting everything in a sparkling dew, so thick it almost looked like snow. The nightly rain left the ground covered in frost, puddles iced over like tiny frozen ponds. Once the sun was above these rolling hills, however, all the crisp white would turn to mud and muck.

Arya and Gendry rose early, hoping to beat the horde for breakfast downstairs. After they washed and dressed Gendry took their bags to check in on their horses while she went to order them up some breakfast.

There wasn't a whole lot to choose from at this modest inn. Just some honied oats, bacon and eggs, apples and sharp cheese, hard bread and blood pudding, but all Arya wanted were biscuits and clotted cream. She placed their order at the bar and moved to a table near the fire. It was quiet in the tavern as the patrons broke their fast, muttered voices echoing over the crackle of the large hearth fire.

Soon, Hot Pie joined her with a mug of spiced cider. He set it down quietly for her and plopped himself in the seat across the table. Arya inhaled the warm apple aromas deeply, the golden liquid was rich with spices; clove, cinnamon, nutmeg and she even saw the rind of a lemon or orange floating around in the pool of amber.

"Did you sleep well?" Hot Pie asked.

He held his own steaming mug with two hands, taking careful slurps. He seemed out of sorts today, his eyes puffy and red. It was likely from lack of a proper night's sleep or from nursing a pounding head after a night spent deep in their cups. Either way, he looked half himself.

"Yes. Did you?" She replied.

"I tossed most of the night. Kept thinking about what you said."

She gave a nod of understanding, "And?"

"I care for her." Hot Pie sighed into his mug, "A great deal."

"Then show her."

Her old friend groaned, "It can't be that easy."

"It can be. If it's right, it will be that easy."

Just as she spoke Gendry returned and gave Hot Pie a friendly smack on the back before sitting down next to him. Not a moment later Thea arrived with their morning meal. Fried eggs, bacon and bread for Gendry with a dark ale to wash it down and three hot biscuits and a large dollop of clotted cream on the side for Arya.

"Thank you." Their pair said in unison.

The girl curtsied and gave Hot Pie a sideways glance and smile before returning to the kitchens.

"I never asked you where you're headed." Hot Pie asked as they ate.

"King's Landing."

"For your brother's betrothal?"

The news of Bran's espousal had come as quite the shock, indeed.

Arya and Sansa both knew Bran had changed since becoming king, knew that some of his life had been returned to him within that process. He took to his role well, and the people revered and loved him dearly. But his sisters couldn't shake the image of Bran as he had been in Winterfell, before The Long Night; stoic, vague and melancholy.

Nevertheless, Meera Reed was his intended's name. Apparently, she was a childhood friend and ally, Bran said, as Gendry had been to Arya.

But Arya had never met the girl, only Sansa had, and only very briefly. They all knew very little of her. They did know that the Reeds had sworn oaths of fealty to the Starks thousands of years ago. They knew the story of their father and Howland Reed at the Tower of Joy, knew the stories of the crannogmen, knew they were all keen fishermen, and that even Meera herself was a skilled huntress. They knew hazily of the girl's part in Bran's survival and journey beyond the Wall, but little else. 

Though from his letters Bran seemed renewed, however altered. He seemed happy.

"That's right," Arya confirmed.

Hot Pie pondered a moment, "And you came all the way from Winterfell?"

"Aye," Gendry muttered in between his chews.

"Why not sail? It'd be faster."

Sansa was, in fact, sailing into King's Landing with some of her Queen's Guard, closer to the capital's festivities. She left The North rarely, sending Brianne in her stead whenever possible. Arya was sure that the last time Sansa stepped foot in King's Landing was for Jon's trial. Her older sister alluded to her anxieties while they were still in Winterfell, where they talked openly of her apprehensions. Again, Arya couldn't fault the woman for her concerns, her brave, bold sister. Both she and Gendry weren't keen on revisiting the capital either. But this was Bran, he was their brother and a king and his was not a celebration they could shy from.

"We like the road. Also, we wanted to see you." Arya replied as she tucked into another buttery biscuit.

"I'm flattered."

"In truth, we came to see if you wanted to come along," Gendry said.

"Me?"

"Who else? Yes, you. However, you seem quite good here." Arya said as she caught Thea pining over Hot Pie yet again that morning.

"I'd never want to live in King's Landing."

"We're not asking you to." Arya bit back with a laugh.

"We thought you might want to come to Storm's End with us. I could write you a scrap of some fertile lands. Or you could stay in the castle with us. Or you could bake still if you wanted. For yourself, or for the castle, or the towns around."

Arya smiled at Gendry's ramblings. They both missed their dear companion, but the last thing either of them wanted was to force Hot Pie into anything. Free will was as important as breath, in their eyes. So no matter how much they wanted their little pack back together again, their baker had the last and final say.

"I am happy. But..."

Arya's eyebrow bounced, "But?"

"I've built a life."

"You have. You've built a humble life working for someone else's success." She pointed out carefully.

"Come with us."

"I won't return to King's Landing."

"You don't have to, you could join us later or we could send for you when you're ready,"

"I have so much here."

"Though is it truly yours?" Arya asked.

With a sigh of defeat, Hot Pie dropped his chin and gave his head a sad shake.

"You could be free of servitude. Your life would be yours." Gendry urged.

"Want my advice?" Arya asked next.

Hot Pie scoffed, "You'll give it regardless."

She smiled at him knowingly, "Go tell your Thea what we've said. Tell her she could come too if she wanted. See what she says to that."

Hot Pie pieced everything together slowly and gave an uneasy glance at Gendry, who bobbed his head in assurance.

"We'll be setting off by midday. Come find us when you're through, let us know what you've decided."

After a bit more chatter Hot Pie shuffled back to the kitchen while Arya and Gendry worked through the rest of their meal. Once full and finished they paid for their room and board before moving outside to take in some fresh air.

~~~

They wandered around the inn's grounds slowly. The sun was full now, topping the rolling hills, it's rays steaming away any leftover morning moisture. They walked past folks tending to their chores, past whores waving their frequenters away, their skirt pockets heavy with coin, past messy faced children finishing off their oaten porridge.

Across a babbling creek, they passed the stables and a small forge. Naturally, Gendry poked his head inside and spoke openly with the smith and his young wide-eyed apprentice. Outside Arya stayed on their path, the squelch of mud and gravel no longer dulled by the racket of activity. As she left the bustle of the small community behind a flock of children ran past, chasing each other, kicking up mud in their wake. A few of the boys had sticks for swords, the girls had their skirts gathered up against the mud.

**_Monsters and maidens..._ **

She felt a sudden longing as she watched them run freely, as they roughhoused and laughed and larked into the nearby woods, en route to the river. She felt envious of these carefree children, annoyed she was not among them. Her throat tightened at the realization and she blinked back unwelcome tears.

"Look what I've found," Gendry said as he came up their path.

Arya smoothed out her clothing and chastised herself for her envy before she turned to see Gendry with something small in his held out hand. To mask her surely red-rimmed eyes she walked to meet him, eyes trained down on the small trinket he presented her.

It was a simple pin. Plain, but proud, and so much like the one her father wore that she gasped aloud. The only difference was this pin was new and not passed down from son to son. No, this was recently forged, unweathered and still polished to a fine lustre. The gleaming pin was styled as wolf's head, tilted back as if in a howl, the hackles on its neck stood high on end.

"Where did..." The words caught in her tight throat; this was her father's wolf.

"The smith made it, after coming across what he claims was a direwolf."

"Made it?"

"He said he came across her two moons ago."

"Her?"

"The direwolf."

"Nymeria," Arya said in a small voice.

"Might be." Gendry took the pin and slipped it into the leather of her cloak, "The town folk know of her, claim to have seen her stalking about. This giant grey graceful wolf with mindful eyes. The old smith said that when he saw her last she had a litter of pups with her."

Arya dreamt of Nymeria at least ever moon turn or so, sometimes more. Among her pack she had seen Nym with a large black wolf at her side, saw her hunting with the dark beast, saw her resting with it. She assumed it was her mate, but nothing made her certain of that. Not until this news.

"Should we hold back and look for her?" Gendry asked.

She smiled at him, thankful, "No. She'll find me. Our paths will cross again."

"Maybe before we leave the Riverlands."

Arya took his hands and raised up to her tiptoes to kiss him, "Thank you."

"Anything for milady." He replied with a sweet wink, an endearment shown only to her, she knew.

Arm in arm they continued on and walked onwards to the forest, the verifying foliage and deep green hues reminding them both of Storm's End. They made it down to the river's edge and watched the raging rapids a while before looping back to the inn at the crossroads.

~~~

Gendry pushed the heavy tavern door open for Arya and they made their way inside, towards the bar. It was unmanned as the serving girls moved about the dining space, getting it ready for the midday rush.

"Ale?" The innkeeper spoke as he came down from upstairs.

"No. We're waiting on Hot Pie," Arya replied.

"He's in the kitchen, go'n back." He waved at them dismissively.

At the innkeeper's instruction, they rounded the counter and headed through the swinging doors at the rear of the tavern. But as they pushed through the rickety wood they caught an eyeful of far more than each was prepared to receive.

Thea's spill of blonde hair caught their eye first before anything else made sense. She had Hot Pie pinned against the back door, her hands splayed across his barreled chest, her lips feverish against his own. Hot Pie swayed like some drunk, struggling to keep upright but kept his thick hands gripped tightly around the girl's waist, grounding himself to her while actively pulling her in closer.

It was hard not to notice the passion, and the wanton tension was near palatable.

However, Gendry's forced cough broke the lusty pair apart. 

Horrified, Thea whirled and delicately wiped her mouth with the tips of her fingers. She looked as red as a beet, her eyes cast to the plank board floor and Arya couldn't help but empathize with her. There'd been many a time where she and Gendry had been caught red-handed, as it were. Hot Pie looked just as dishevelled and embarrassed but his lovesick smile gave his satisfaction away.

Arya threw the back of her hand against Gendry's chest, giving him a stern look as she did it.

"What?!" He whined.

"You ruined their moment, you oaf," Arya replied quietly. "Don't mind us." She said then as they stood awkwardly in the door's threshold, "But, we're about to head out and were wondering if Hot Pie had given our offer any more thought?"

Hot Pie smiled like a damned fool now, "We'll come."

Arya's smile back was wide too, "You will?!"

"Aye. But we'll both need time to prepare. And someone will need to tell Harlik."

"I assume that someone isn't you?" Arya asked.

"I'd rather not. He's got some temper."

"I'll tell him." Gendry offered.

Hot Pie gave him a thankful nod.

"We could return in a fortnight? Will that be enough time?" She asked.

"It should be? But we don't want to be a bother. We can find our own way." Hot Pie insisted.

"We know you can. But it's always better to travel as a pack."

"Thank you, milord, milady," Thea spoke softly.

"It's no trouble." Gendry ensured her, his voice calm.

"We're happy to have you both."

~~~

Harlik Uller didn't take the loss of both his cook and baker kindly, "You can't just take them!" He complained at Gendry.

"We aren't. As a boy, Hot Pie chose to stay here of his own free will. Now, a man grown, he and Thea are choosing to leave."

"They're my livelihood!"

"They're people." Gendry bit back firmly.

"They keep the guests fed! I need someone to bloody well work the kitchens!"

"We understand." Her lord husband said, dropping a fat sack of coins atop the wooden bar, "Thea assures me that all the kitchen help know the recipes, and can run the kitchen without her. When Lady Stark and I are in the capital we can send out a new baker for you."

Harlik eyed the bag of coins, no doubt eager to count his earnings. Arya saw the flash of greed in his beady little eyes. He'd made up his mind.

"As you like then." He mumbled snatching up the satchel.

~~~

They agreed to send an envoy for Hot Pie and Thea in ten days, when the festivities in King's Landing were through, which put Hot Pie at ease.

With their plans set well ahead of them, they bid their old friend farewell. The newly forged couple saw them off, shoulder to shoulder, giddy smiles spread across their faces.

~~~

Arya and Gendry rode well into the crisp afternoon. They kept their gate light, trotting along the King's Road at an effortless pace.

Arya had found a new appreciation for the Riverlands. When she was young she'd spent the better part of her journey going from one point to another, crisscrossing around her mother's maiden homelands, dragged along by one band or another. At the time she hated how much it rained, hated all the moss, hated the bone-deep cold and the mud, hated each town or holdfast they came across and especially hated Harrenhal. But now, she breathed the moist air in deep, watched the life that the Trident cultivated and appreciated the lush rich foliage anew.

They spent most of the day at this light beat, but as the sun began to set in the western sky they stopped to set camp for the night.

~~~

Once the tent was up and a fire lit Arya took to the woods, to hunt and snare, leaving Gendry behind to tend to their horses and campfire. They both knew she was far quieter on her own.

No more than an hour passed before she came back with a pheasant and a hare. Along her way, she found some spring onions and nettles as well, which would add some more nutrients to their foraged meal. While she was gone Gendry tended a large roaring fire and found a crabapple tree, he even picked a handful of perfectly ripe blackberries for dessert.

~~~

"So, looks like I won then." Arya boasted after their supper.

Gendry grumbled, tossing another log on their fire. He poked at the embers with a thick stick, "Is that so?"

"Yes."

"How do you figure?"

"In the end." She shrugged by way of an explanation.

Gendry scoffed, "After much convincing."

"He was already there. A helpful nudge. Nothing more."

"That wasn't the bet."

"We didn't set a timeline."

"Swindler."

She grinned slyly, "In the end, they are together."

"I still think you cheated."

"But did I win?" She inquired, her tone sugar sweet.

He poked at the fire more than necessary, "I suppose."

"Now then, let's see. What shall I chose as my prize?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading along!!
> 
> Let me know what you think and/or check me out on Tumblr @shirly-gallagher for more musings and other fangirl fanatics...


	5. Wicked Game

Arya relaxed back against their saddlebags, a clever grin pulling at her lips. She folded her hands across her belly and stared up through treetops at a dark night sky, scattered with the sparkling of bright stars.

"I'm at a loss for what to choose as my prize," Arya said lightly, she toed off her boots then and warmed her wiggling toes by the fire.

Gendry mimicked her pose, tossing his boots too, settling in close to her side, "You'll think of something."

She pondered quietly before she went on, "But what should I choose?"

"Something quickly." He snipped back.

She smirked to herself. She knew Gendry hated to lose, just as much as she did, but this was amusing none less, so she just had to milk it, "Maybe I'll have you sharpen all our weapons for the rest of our trip."

Gendry closed his eyes with a long sigh, "Something I already do."

"Just so." Arya hummed and gnawed on her lip, "Hmm, I could have you shoe our horses."

"I already do that too." He replied blindly.

"Right. Something better."

"You're not very good at this." He observed.

She glanced to her side, "And you'd do so much better?"

He responded quickly, eyeing her directly, "Aye. I would."

She held his libidinous stare. The firelight cast long dancing shadows across his face, highlighting his strong jaw and high cheekbones. She watched his deep blues roam over her face, watched them settle on her lips before his own turned up in a crooked grin.

"I know, I'll have you spend the rest of our trip shirtless." She commented with a quirk of her brow.

"It's too cold for that. We're not in Dorne any longer, milady."

"So? Have you not built up a northern tolerance yet?"

"I tolerate you."

She scoffed a laugh, looking back up to the sky, "Maybe I'll have you perform more scandalous deeds beneath our furs."

"A gruelling task, indeed."

"You're right. I need not waste my winnings on something you're already keen to do."

"Just pick something already."

"Patience, my love."

Her comment was met with an eye roll. He wasn't convinced. That was plain. She turned to observe him fully now, saw his jaw clench, saw his chest heave in another long, surly frustrated, sigh. She smiled as she laid back again.

"Maybe I'll have you do everything. I'll have you heed to my every will and command. Praise me. Dote on me. Be my personal servant. A prize befitting a real winner."

Gendry growled lowly and shuffled in his spot. He folded his arms across his chest like some reprimanded green boy when Arya laughed at him.

He continued to glower at her, "If you don't pick already I'll make you regret your boasting."

"Will you?"

"Aye, I will."

Arya held his challenging stare, fighting every basic urge she had to jump him. She knew this little cat and mouse game they engaged in. She knew it all too well. And was far too willing to play along. She turned her body towards him, deliberately inviting his turning advance, soaking in his warmth and scent with a smile.

"I doubt there's anything you can do to make me regret my winning." She replied confidently.

Gendry smirked and moved in even closer, dipping his head down until he was only a breath away from her, "We'll see." He murmured then sealed their lips with a kiss.

Arya descended into the sensation, the hot press of his body against hers, the heat of desire flooding out to her extremities. She felt his weight, felt the night breeze across her ankles, felt the warmth of the fire tickling the tips of her toes, and the cool dirt beneath their blanket. His attentive lips lulled her, suspended her, made her warm from toe to crown in ways only Gendry ever had. His hand took her cheek, drawing her in, then slid down the side of her throat, where it paused.

She couldn't help but mewl and slide her tongue along his lower lip, poking, waiting, anticipating his next moves. His lips opened for her at the ready and tongues touched sensually, building with each languid pass and caress. Her hand held onto his bicep tight, pulling him closer until he was nearly on top of her.

Gendry nipped at her lips between kisses before letting his hand drag farther down her neck. He looped his fingers in the fastens of her jerkin, tugging and teasing, his lips still moving along with hers. Impatient, Arya helped his heedless hands, pulling her clasps loose for him and allowing free access to the warmth of opportunity below. His sly hand snuck in and groped her gently. Her chest heaved under his deliberate caress, her core pulsed with need, head her head spun with a lustful appetite. He palmed and pinched, her tunic providing a splendid friction against taught nipples, causing her to gasp an open-mouthed moan.

The parting of their lips sent Gendry south. He broke from her and trailed his kiss along her jawline, down the column of her throat, across her collarbones. Her own hand found the back of his skull as he nuzzled against each breast, and her fingers curled into his inky black hair when he took each nipple between his lips. He worried her through her tunic, his tongue laved at her through course fabric, salver soaking through to skin and Arya's arched her back, the sensation causing her to press her chest to his face.

Willfully his lips found hers again, claiming them with fluid fever. Their intensity shifted, their kiss grew hungrier, messier and Arya poured every bit of need she had into him. She still held his hair tight, guiding his already ardent movements against her very own.

He skillfully used one hand to blindly pull the laces of her breeches free without any further hesitation. Their tongues slid and massaged as he worked the strings slack, slipping his hand below the open fabric as soon as he was able.

Gasping, Arya lifted to his touch and groaned into his kiss when Gendry cupped her sex firmly. He groaned and teased her, pet her, fingers moving just enough to brush through the dark hairs covering her warmth, skimming along without dipping past her outer lips. He kept his touch feather-light as their lips chased each other.

"Get on with it." She growled as they parted for some much-needed breath.

"I said you'd regret your boasting." He said, lips against the shell of her ear now, his breath panting and heavy.

"What I feel is hardly regret."

He laughed at her. The smug idiot.

Instead of listening to her plea he withdrew his hand from below and cupped her breast instead. There he kneaded her gently and tweaked her purled nipple between his thumb and forefinger, causing her to moan and drop her head back despite herself.

She could feel his eyes on her, heavy and yearning. She felt his enjoyment pressed hard against her thigh too, his slow rutting divulging just how badly he wanted her as well.

So Arya moved the arm pinned between them just slightly, allowing her hand to brush against his cock. Another flood of arousal took her as she felt his body respond to her slight touch. His hips jerked towards her and he shifted to allow her free movement, moaning shamelessly as she cupped his bulge through his pants.

She massaged his hard cock through his leathers as best she could, given the awkward angle. At her ministrations he buried his face in the crook of her neck, groaning against and kissing the soft skin he found there. She twisted her fingers into the ties at his waist, tugging to free him, but he stopped her by slipping his hand back into her pants again.

She froze, on the edge of dizzying promise once more.

He bypassed his teasing this time, thank the heavens, and slid a single finger along the wet warmth of her velvet lips, from top to center and back again. They both let out a shutter as he finally landed right where she wanted.

"You're so wet." He mumbled in awe.

She nodded, lost and absent, "That's your fault."

Gendry's low laugh rumbled in his chest and his warm breath sailed across her lips. He kissed her slowly then, matching the laps of his tongue with the slow movements of his thick finger below. He rubbed her swollen nub with the pad, lazy and achingly soft. She wiggled, writhed and whined under his teasing, and groaned when he left to explore her lower lips and probe at her entrance seemingly without objective.

Arya's patience dwindled quickly after that and as Gendry's kiss tracked along her jaw and down her neck again she found the opportunity to force his hand some. She took his wrist and tried to push his hand further down her pants, but he held his place, unmoved by her feeble force. She whined dramatically and lifted her hips again, trying to squirm her way into getting what she wanted.

"Patience, my love."

"Stop teasing."

"Do you wish something of me?"

"I wish you'd get on with it."

"Frustrated then, milady?"

"Bordering on angry."

He laughed at her. Again. Making no move to up his pressure or pace, "Frustrated enough to, say, waste your winnings on having me get you off?"

"No."

"I could do this all night." He replied, slipping his hand from her sex to suck on his fingers.

Stifling a shudder she tried to seem unfazed by the lewd act, "I doubt that."

"Care to wager on it?" He grinned smugly, again, "Double or nothing."

"No."

"Suit yourself."

He took to kissing her neck again, an act that rendered her listless, knowledge they both knew he exploited. She turned to catch him in another heated kiss, only this time she captured him forcefully. Groaning, Gendry went to grab for her tits again but she tossed his hand away and slammed both palms into the barrel of his chest before he got the chance, actively breaking their lip lock.

She stood swiftly, pulling her pants back over her hips. He rolled from his side to his back where he chuckled at her dramatics. He looked half a boy from where she stood above him now, his mirth, his playful grin, bare feet and dishevelled hair and clothing all doing little to ease her frustration.

"You listen here, _bull_. I've had enough of your torment." She pulled her posture up and held her chin high, "I'm going to bed, where I intend to get naked." She stared down and pointed a slim castigating finger at him, "If you don't follow me and finish what you've started, I'll finish it myself."

He threw his head back with another dark laugh, "Is that a threat, Lady Baratheon?"

"Did it sound like one?" She deadpanned.

His head tilted as if in thought before she turned away to make good on her word. But, dispute how often she called him stupid, he was no fool and the moment she left he was quick to his feet and hot on her heels.

~~~

_**Midnight brought out the sounds of silence, the smells of flight, and the tidings of ill fate.  
** _

_**Her mouth was thick with blood, the metallic taste coating her tongue with the tang of flesh, both fresh and rotted. The dank air filled her lungs, leaves and dirt offering up an unmistakable earthen scent while she roamed. The damp cold wicked off her coat as her feet padded effortlessly through the wet underbrush, over roots, under limbs, and across slow running streams.** _

_**She was silent, slick, stealth, and within another's skin.** _

_**She was with her pack, prowling, marking, gathering, their hunt was on.** _

_**They roved up the river bend sniffing out pray, drawn to the pungent smell of demise.** _

_**Up ahead she saw it, but the scent hit her nose first. It sat on the back of her tongue, heavy and rancid. Her kin broke out ahead of her and tore into the bloated beast. They mangled through bone and skin alike, snarled and snapped at each other, showing off their dominance, constantly looking to her for approval.** _

_**She paid them no mind. This stinking corpse was theirs. She had her fill earlier, only now, she caught wind of another smell, far sweeter.** _

_**She prowled away from her pack, keen ears ever listening. She heard the crunch of bone and the rip of flesh, the squelch of blood and... A whimper? A sob?** _

_**Her head tilted to the sound, pointed grey ears pivoting. Again it flittered, a sound that carried in the dead of night. Again. And again.** _

_**She followed the whimpering sound to the outskirts of a small river town. There she hung in the shadows, covered by the tree line and the long shadows of the moon, watching, waiting, seeing.** _

_**She sniffed at the air again. More blood. Different blood. Fresh. Watery. She stalked around the village and heard the whimper again.** _

_**A woman.** _

_**From the shadows, she saw a young woman bathed in moonlight, sinking her blood-soaked bits of cloth into a washing pool, before scrubbing at the threads violently. She scrubbed and sobbed, unknowing of the wolf in the shadows, unknowing of the dangers that might, and surly would befall her.** _

_**A wolf howl called her back to her kin, back to things she knew, back to things she understood. The howl startled the poor girl and she muffled a tiny scream, clutching her stitches of cloth to her breast.** _

_**Another howl, bone-chilling and deep...** _

Arya woke with a gasping start, a cold sweat damp across her flushed skin. Her heart was racing and for a moment everything seemed brighter.

Dawn had crept in as she dreamt, as Gendry lay peacefully asleep at her side, as the forest lay seemingly dormant.

It'd been some time since she had such a vivid dream and at least two or three moon turns since a dream woke her from a deep slumber. She wiped her damp brow with the back of her hand and lifted her long hair off the back of her sweaty neck while she tried to breathe deep calming breaths.

But the taste of blood still hung on her tongue, the smell of death still lingered in her nose. She tried to swallow, but she couldn't shake the taste. Her stomach roiled and churned at the unwelcome realization and a wave of nausea quickly pulled her from their bed.

Naked, she spilled out of their tent and scrambled to her feet before retching up their dinner. Arya narrowly missed her feet and doubled over the bushes a few yards from their tent, where she heaved and heaved until she had nothing left to give.

It spent her, drained everything from her, left her gasping for air, though she could still taste that fucking blood.

She sat on the ground heavily and dragged their blanket from supper over her bare shoulders and wrapped it close. Sickness still clutched at her throat, threatening to expel whatever watery bile she still had left. She tried to focus on her breath, head tilted to the sky, willing the soft breeze to calm her. After a few moments of focused breathing, she felt the sickness start to ebb.

Clutching her blanket she stood and moved to their horses, whom she had awoken with the throws of her queasiness.

"I'm alright." She assured them quietly with a gentle pat each.

Lucky turned his head and nudged into Arya's hand. She gave the soft velvet a scratch, the pale white nuzzle reminding her of Nymeria's pale white brother; Ghost.

She sat back down near the cool grey embers of their cook fire and took a few swigs from the water skin that she'd slipped from her saddlebag.

There her thoughts of Ghost brought her to thoughts of Jon. 

She hadn't seen Ghost in her dream, but she had felt him. He had been close. He wasn't far from Nym's pack, might be that they even roamed together every so often. She wished she could see Jon more. But the last time they were together was her wedding night, in the Godswood just outside the Fist of the First Men. On that dark Northern night, Jon had given her away, stayed for the makeshift feast that followed, but was gone by the dawn.

Lord Commander Snow was a terribly busy man for being a man of exile. He kept the border between the Far North and the rest of Westeros flowing in both directions with trade and maintained his obligation to stay at or beyond The Wall. He'd visit Sansa only twice a year, and rarely made it south of Mole's Town.

Jon assured their sisters that he was content with the life he had been given, that it was where he had belonged all along anyhow. But selfish reasons made Arya wish he weren't so honourable, made her wish that he would just break the rules and join them. In King's Landing now or Storm's End later, or out in the world, whenever, wherever. It wouldn't matter. As long as he had the choice. She wanted him to feel the freedom she felt and, more desperately, she wanted him near.

Arya closed the cap on her skin and wiped the tears from her cheeks. Her stomach felt normal again, enough to chance another attempt at sleep. Silently she crawled back into their tent and slipped below the furs again.

Blindly, Gendry threw an arm over her and curled it around her waist, pulling her back against his naked frame. He sighed, undisturbed, and nuzzled against her neck, his breath still long and low with slumber.

A peaceful sleep claimed her quickly then, exhaustion heavy in her bones and low in her guts, with the memory of not yet understood symbols still sharp in her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! xox


	6. Villains of Circumstance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been debating on posting this chapter, with everything going on in real life, I wasn't sure how I felt about it...
> 
> But, I decided, if posting can bring even a few people a bit of joy in these turbulent times then here we go.
> 
> There is a tiny bit of canon typical violence in this chapter... So please heed my tags...

  


They broke their fast the bread and preserves they packed for their journey. Arya brewed her tansy and a nettle tea, both sweetened heavily with honey, while Gendry busied himself by sharpening their weaponry. They had long since dismantled their camp, their horses packed, ready and waiting. The fire that morning was warm and welcome as they prepared for the day ahead, the quiet forest awakening along with them.

"I heard you last night," Gendry said as they ate.  
  
She nodded, "I'm sorry my dreaming woke you."  
  
"It wasn't the dream."  
  
Though the news should come as no shock, she had been loud enough to wake the whole forest, still, for some reason, a threading of shame flushed through her.  
  
"Oh." She muttered.  
  
"Are you feeling alright?"  
  
Honest, she couldn't shake the stubborn sickly feeling. The copper taste of blood, the smell of decay, the worry. The moment her eyes opened to this new day, it nagged at her, through every morning chore and ritual it sat like a rock in her stomach, heavy and undigested.  
  
"Yes." She felt her throat tighten again, "I just had an excessively vivid dream."  
  
"Was it another wolf dream?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And you're alright?"  
  
"I am. They were..." She shuddered, "Their feast was old, rotting... There was a girl..." She swallowed hard again and shook her head.  
  
"A girl?"  
  
"Yes. I tracked her to a town." Gendry went white as Arya spoke, "The town is fine. The girl's fine." She assured.  
  
"Good." He said all too quickly, before he gave her an apologetic look, "Do you know this girl?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Why were you drawn to her?"  
  
"I don't know." She felt her stomach start to reject her morning meal, "I can't speak of it yet."  
  
In his unflappable understanding, he nodded, "Alright."

~~~

Travel those next few days was nothing short of underwhelming. The RiverLands gave way to Crown Land, the landscape leaving rain and moss behind for an arid climate, thick with dust and rolling rock. Where Arya's distaste for the RiverLands ebbed into a newfound appreciation, the Crown Lands held her hatred true.  
  
The cart width King's Road was well maintained and as they travelled south of Darry the conditions only improved. They passed small folk, bards and travellers alike along the way. Some stared, others kept their head down and held their pace. Some chatted, some told them stories of the King's grand wedding, of the happiness felt, of the prosperity that was sure, of the feast that was promised. The bards asked them for stories, recognized their sigils, and asked them to tell tall tales. Some tried to align themselves with their party, but Arya and Gendry were able to skillfully avoid taking anyone else along.  
  
Thair pair ate when they wanted, set camp and rested when they liked, stopped to water the horses when needed, and indulged in idle conversation when they felt it. But otherwise, the days following continued on rather fully.

~~~

Just before sunset on their fifth day they came upon a farmer with his cart and young daughter. The yield in Westeros had been bountiful for most, to be sure, and the farmer's cart was heaped with goods of a healthy verity. Gendry bought some sweetgrass, apricots and pears from the daughter while Arya spoke with the cart and content's proprietor.  
  
He suggested they stay at an inn called the Ivy, said people claimed bandits to be roaming, said there that a storm was rolling in from the east, clouds heavy with rain on dark grey foreboding skies.  
  
After a bit more weather talk Arya thanked them for the goods and information and they parted ways.  
  
The small town came up on them rather quickly. Arya wasn't even sure it was a town, might be it was just a community that saw an opportunity and exploited it. There wasn't another inn for miles, and this one looked newer than most. There wasn't much there, much like the Crossroads, only this township was much smaller and the inn itself was much larger and far more expensive.

~~~

Their rented room was spacious enough and even boasted a large featherbed. A small table with a pair of chairs sat in front of a modest fireplace, a warm fire burning bright within the stonework hearth.  
**_  
A fine place for the night..._**  
  
They supped in their room, uninterested in the boisterous bustle within the tavern downstairs, lost in conversations of their very own.  
  
Though their journey had been uneventful they were drained from their travels and found themselves yawning well before nightfall overtook the tempest skies.  
  
The wind howled and rain poured hard through the night, but both Arya and Gendry slept sound. Neither woke to the thunder, neither stirred to the lightning, nor to the pounding rain that assaulted the thatched roof. They slept steadily through the throes of a wild storm, contently curled around each other, swallowed up by the plush down of their downy featherbed.

~~~

By morning they rose early, rejuvenated by their restful sleep. They broke their fast on leftovers from the night prior, washed up and dressed before gathering their horses.  
  
The sky was still grey, with large pockets of dark clouds threatening more rain. They dressed accordingly, fully prepared for and well accustomed to anything that might be thrown their way.  
  
They were yet a day's ride away from King's Landing, but the Crown Lands buzzed with activity despite the rain as they travelled closer and closer to the capital.  
  
Rain and mud made their travel seem longer and it was mid-afternoon when Gendry cleared his throat. She smirked to herself knowing he was preparing to speak.

"Can we talk about your dream yet?" Gendry asked in his inquisitive yet eloquent voice.  
  
It was an octave that she wasn't sure he knew he slipped into. **_His Lord Baratheon voice..._** Her smirk faded only slightly as she looked to study his features. She had known the question was coming, knew it wasn't something Gendry would surly forget, but still, she felt her throat tighten as if she were about to cry. Again.  
  
She tried to swallow the feeling, and her voice came out far smaller than she liked, "Alright."  
  
He thought quietly as they trotted along, "Did this one feel different?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Have you felt the difference before?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Have you ever been sick like that from a dream?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Has anyone else?"  
  
These rapid-fire questions left her feeling a bit uneasy, and it was clear that he'd been thinking long upon them.  
  
"No. Or at least Bran never mentioned it." She shifted in her saddle and gave him another quick side glance.  
  
Gendry watched her steadily, his gaze soft, "Have you ever spoken with him about it?"  
  
"In the past, yes."  
  
"And what does he have to say of it?"  
  
"He says that oftentimes the dream is trying to tell you something. Or that while you're in the other's skin, you're meant to see something. Something either you cannot or will not see as yourself."  
  
"So, any idea what it all means?"  
  
"Not yet. But, maybe Nymeria knows that I'm about to see Bran, Sansa and Summer?"  
  
He screwed his face up in thought, "Summer?"  
  
"Bran's direwolf."  
  
"I thought she died?"  
  
She smiled at this blunt simplicity, "He is very much alive."  
  
"And what about the girl?" Gendry asked tentatively, "What of that?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
He nodded, "Would you tell me if you did?"  
  
She flushed and answered quickly, "Of course."  
  
Arya knew that she had the tendency to keep things to herself until prompted, a character trait that she had spent the better part of the last five years trying to curb. For his sake as much as her own.  
  
He was an open book to her, and to literally no one else but her. The least she could do was the same.  
  
It had taken work, however, and a few fights had ensued early in their marriage, most of which stemmed from her trying to bare an emotional load far greater than she could or should carry alone. So they worked at it, together. But both were very used to fending for themselves, used to taking everything on solo. Becoming a unit proved to be fruitful, in many ways, yet she sometimes still needed to remind herself that they were on the same side. That they were two sides to the same coin, and one side was only as polished as the other.  
  
"You promise?" He ventured.  
  
"Yes, Gendry." She assured him gently, "If I come to understand what it means, I'll tell you."  
  
He seemed appeased with that and smiled warmly, "Good."

~~~

That night they set camp on the border of King's Landing in the forest between Hayford and Stokeworth. They would arrive in the capital by midday on the morrow. If they felt like pushing themselves they could have made it into the city proper by daybreak, but neither were interested in riding through the night.  
  
So, once camp was set and a fire built, Arya set off to the woods again. She hunted until dusk until her sight was too impaired to make a clean shot. As she wandered back to camp, the game in hand she thought more about her dream. She was sure there was something she was meant to see, something she was avoiding or didn't yet understand in her waking life, but the facts were hard to decipher.

**_Blood and tears..._ **

"What's wrong?" He asked as she joined him by the fire.  
  
She shook her frown, "Nothing. Just thinking about my dream again."  
  
"Have you figured it out?"  
  
"No." She replied simply.  
  
He didn't push the subject any further though, for which she was grateful.  
  
Supper consisted of a spit-roasted grouse, white potatoes fried up with the last bit of their bacon and spring onions, all washed down with their final flagging of ale.  
  
Arya ate her portion like a woman starved, sopping up the juices with her very last potato. Gendry always finished his meals before her, to the point where sometimes she wondered if he even tasted it. But she knew why he ate so quickly, of course. It all went back to those years on the run. All those years of never really knowing when or what you might eat again. She had learned to savour, as time passed, but tonight she downed everything with haste.  
  
As Arya all but licked her plate clean Gendry eyed her carefully, "Did you even taste it?" He teased.  
  
She gulped down a few swigs of ale before replying, "I did. And it was delicious."  
  
He chuckled and returned to his meal, finishing up quickly as well.  
  
Dessert was honeycomb and tart green apples, with a sprig of wild mint to finish. Knitted together they shared the delectables under a crisp clear full moon. The clouds had parted as the sun set and the moonlight brightened everything up as if it were pure daylight.  
  
They sat at the fire most of the night, played a bit of dice, talked of what they might expect in King's Landing, but before long Arya was yawning. With the fire glowing low with red hot embers they retired to their tent well near midnight.

~~~

In the darkness, Arya awoke from a deep slumber to the sound of a wolf howling.  
  
The sound slithered up her spine, the tone guttural and deep; familiar. It sounded close. Very close. Almost too close. She sat upright in their bed, listening into the dark. Her eyes slid shut and she calmed her breathing, concentrated on her surroundings.  
  
**_Listen with your ears..._**  
  
The wind slid through the canvas of their tent, filling the interior like breath to lungs, the fire snapped and popped with cooling embers, leaves rustled on tree limbs, branches swayed, Gendry breathed deep and slow beside her.  
  
The wolf howled again.  
  
Just a chilling as the first call, only this time all the hairs on Arya's nape stood on end.  
  
**_Something's here..._**  
  
She crept out of their sleeping furs, bare as a babe, save for his oversized tunic she wore before pulling her boots on. She moved to the tent's opening and peered through the slat. She saw nothing but low lit darkness.  
  
_**Look with your eyes...  
**_  
That's when she heard it. The unmistakable sound of men. Men on horses, men with weapons, men who were undoubtedly unwelcome company.  
  
Gendry suddenly woke to the ill-favoured sound as well, pawing for her in the empty bed space beside him, "Arya!" He whispered harshly.  
  
"Shhh. Here." She calmly handed him his bundled pants and boots then took her slim Needle in hand.  
  
She stepped out into the night, eyes adjusting to the low campfire light quickly. She could easily make out the shapes of the horses coming down the gulley, weaving through the trees, quiet, but not quiet enough.  
  
Not nearly.  
  
She steeled herself against the cold gust of wind that pulled at her nightshirt, fabric dusting about her knees.  
  
"You best be on your way!" Arya called out into the darkness as the unwelcome intruders approached.  
  
These men tried to be stealthy and tried to seem more intimidating than they were, tried to surround them, but they were only just three. The trio stopped at the edge of their camp, yet still too close for her comfort.  
  
Their proximity even made the horses nervous.  
  
"Is that so?" The apparent leader called out.  
  
"I won't tell you twice."  
  
The men laughed. All three cackled, clearly dismissing her as some lonesome maid. Their first mistake. Her Needle was stealthily pointed to the soft dirt, concealed by the billows of her thread sheer tunic. Arya watched them tentatively, sized them up, anticipated what type of fight was to come.  
  
**_This should be interesting...  
_**  
The trio of men were very clearly thieves. Their armour was dirty, soiled, patched and miss-matched, their boots seemed ill-fitting and none of them knew how to properly wield a horse.  
  
The leader moved forward on his leery mount, "Tell me?"  
  
"That's right. Kindly continue on your way." Arya paused to let the information settle, then uttered her next words with a calm dangerous tone, "Or I'll bleed you like a pig."  
  
The leader chuckled again then tisked his tongue at her, "We've been on the road so long, little one. I could use a sprite young thing like you."  
  
"We all could." The other chimed in.  
  
"Then move along. I'm not fit for your companionship." Arya warned.  
  
"A love a woman with a bit of spunk." One man sneered.  
  
"So lovely in this firelight." The other commented.  
  
As if on cue Gendry stood from within their tent. She didn't dare turn, she didn't need to, with her attention fixed and focused on these ragged thieves, she felt the mood shift with his addition.  
  
He stood tall behind her as she spoke in a booming threatening timbre, "I'd do as the lady says."  
  
"And if we don't?" One of the flunkies questioned in a cocky tone.  
  
The gleam of Gendry's broad sword caught the corner her eye. It caught the thieves' attention too. All three sat up a little straighter. Gendry's movements were smooth, slight and deliberate, just as she had taught him. He stepped to her side now which prompted the mounted men to coerce their horses closer.  
  
**_Make them do the work..._**  
  
"Fancy yourself a tough man, eh?"  
  
"I'd do as she says," Gendry repeated.  
  
"Or what? You'll kill us?"  
  
"Oh, no, not me. For that, this one needs no help of mine." Gendry replied with a nod towards his wife.  
  
The men laughed again inching even closer on still skittish mounts. Arya could see the animal's panic. She could feel it. These horses didn't belong to these men. And they all knew it. Each time they urged the beasts forward, they were met with much resistance. She watched as one man dug his heels in, to no avail. She saw the other yank and flap the reins, uttering confusing and mismatched commands.  
  
Clearly frustrated with the beasts and all the chatter the leader looked to one of his men and gestured for him to dismount, "Take them!"  
  
**_Quick as a snake..._**  
  
Arya crouched and quickly stood again, tossing a slim dagger drawn from her boot. The steel flew through the air like a swift slice and imbedded itself into the sword arm of the man following commands. He screamed out in pain, spooking his poor horse and sending it rearing. As the man tumbled to the ground with a hard thud the horse sprinted off. In the commotion, Arya advanced on their leader, her Needle drawn up and alining directly with the man's groin. The man shifted uncomfortably with a gasp, before pulling on the reins of his horse. But she advanced further and gently took hold of his horse's brindle.  
  
"Tell your man to tend to his friend, before he bleeds out." She ordered him calmly.  
  
"You're no match for me, woman." The would-be bandit grumbled.  
  
"You're right." She applied more pressure to the tip of her blade, poking through the soft fabric of his pants, causing the intruder to hiss in fear. "I'm better.  
  
"I'll kill you for this." The man under her blade point promised.  
  
Arya tisked at him and shook her head, "Tell your man to tend to his friend." She repeated.  
  
"What did the lady say about asking twice?!" Gendry barked, his long sword pointed at the third mounted thief.  
  
"Tarik, do as the bitch says." The thief leader muttered.  
  
Gendry followed the man named Tarik as he swung off his horse, the point of his sword tracking after the man like a shadow.  
  
"Who are you?" Arya demanded of the leader.  
  
"No one."  
  
"Lie." Arya scolded and slapped the man's knuckles with the blunt side of her needle, quick as a flash. He yelped and tried to dismount, but her point quickly found the underside of his jaw.  
  
"Leave me, woman." He sneered.  
  
"You came upon us. And I gave you fair warning." Arya said as she pressed into his skin, breaking it and drawing a slow-rolling drop of blood. Disgruntled, the leader growled yet cowered, trying to remain still as stone. "Where did you come from?" She urged.  
  
"None of your business, wench." He spat.  
  
Gendry silently rounded the other side of this tall chestnut mare and yanked the thief by the scruff at his last words, seemingly one-handed. With a flailing yelp, the man fell to the ground where her husband pinned him down with the tip of his sword to the soft hollow of his throat.  
  
"Call her anything but 'my lady' again and they'll be the last words you utter," Gendry warned.  
  
Arya lead the thief's horse away from the clamour, moving to catch the other who had begun to wander away from the situation. With murmured comfort, she tied both off next their own mounts before moving back to the three now dismounted men.  
  
"Who are you?" She asked the man tending to the wound she had inflicted.  
  
He'd since removed her knife, and was applying pressure to the bleeding. Her aim insured that it wasn't a fatal injury, but it was still bleeding profusely. The injured man seemed nearly relieved to be on the ground, and whether it was from the loss of blood, exhaustion or complacency, his head lulled and his eyes grew heavy.  
  
"We're from the Iron Islands, milady." The thief tending to his travel companion confessed.  
  
Arya laid Needle at her side and knelt to the man's level, pinning her tunic in place by crossing her arms over her chest, wary to not expose more of herself than she already had, "You're a very long way from home."  
  
"That's not m'home, milady. We're just from there." He said quietly.  
  
There was a hint of sadness to the man's voice, or maybe it was longing. Either way, Arya felt herself pity him, felt as if she knew his struggle, knew what it was like to be from nowhere. She tossed a look at Gendry who now had a heavy foot on the leader's wrist, the point of his sword still yet to waver, he gave her a quick nod before she continued.  
  
"And what are you doing all the way out here? Besides thieving and raping?" Arya asked.  
  
The man named Tarik didn't reply, he just continued to tend to his companion's wound by wrapping it in a torn strip of his cloak.  
  
"What aren't you telling us?" Gendry growled at the man below his foot. He put more weight on his prisoner's wrist and the thief cried out in pain.  
  
"These men chose to ride with me!" He insisted through a whine.  
  
**_An odd thing to confess...  
_**  
Arya cocked her head to the side and gave Gendry another side glance. His face mirrored her circumspect thought as he stood over the snivelling bandit.  
  
"We didn't!" Tarik cried out quickly.  
  
"You keep your mouth shut!" The ring leader barked back before Gendry leaned heavily on his wrist again. The man was nearly sobbing now, but her husband stood firm and unmoved.  
  
"Tell me the truth, lad." Arya said softly to Tarik, "Truth earns you more than deceit."  
  
He kept his gaze low and Arya half expected him to lie, or at least withhold the truth. But no sooner did the thought cross her mind did Tarik speak up, "He said that if we didn't join him his captain would find us. Beat us. Hang us. They'd already sacked the village we were staying in, killed everyone we knew, there was nowhere to go. It was either the road with him, or stay with the ghosts until a monster came for us too." He explained.  
  
"Do you know anyone out here?"  
  
"He has family in Maidenpool." Tarik said nodding to his almost unconscious accomplice, "We were hoping to break free, make a run for it, but here we are."  
  
Arya nodded her understanding and took her Needle in hand again. She came to stand beside Gendry, handing him a long length of rope and sheathing her own thrown dagger back in her boot once more.  
  
"What should we do with this one?" He asked.  
  
"We'll take them all to Sow's Horn. Allow the King's Gaurd to take care of them. I don't want to drag them along to King's Landing with us."  
  
The ringleader below Gendry's foot groaned and spat his obscenities, cursed them for taking them captive, cursed this misunderstanding, cursed Arya for being a wild wretched woman.  
  
Truth be told, she wasn't pleased about the situation either. She didn't want to deal with these men, she just wanted to get to King's Landing without effect. She couldn't stand the sight of this leader, and his smell was worse. Piss and shit and strong perfume, sickly sweet, as if he'd thieved a vile from some maid and doused himself heedlessly with the oily essence. And his look was worse over, akin to every sneering, initialled man Arya had ever seen all rolled into one skin-crawling and wretched persona.  
  
Feeling the man's smell roil her stomach Arya wordlessly left Gendry to restrain their captives and heard him mutter a strong 'Shut up!' as he roughly pushed the mouthy stinking bandit onto to his belly. Gendry bound his hands behind his back, then bound his feet, before attaching the length of rope securely around a high tree limb.  
  
Gendry moved to the other men, and bound them the same, only he mercifully allowed their hands to lay comfortably in front.  
  
"My lady trusts your story. But we don't trust you. Understand?" He said sternly.  
  
"Aye, milord."  
  
"Make any noise, and I'll gag'ya."  
  
The man named Tarik nodded back franticly. The ringleader went to open his mouth, surly to speak, but Gendry was quicker. He tore another strip from the compliant's cloak and bound it around the leader's mouth, muffling his yowls of distaste. He left the bound men tied to a Sentinel tree and moved to join Arya at their now herd of horses.  
  
She was busy taking the saddles off both the bandit's mares, smoothing their hair out with the palm of her hand, scratching behind their ears. Both beasts seemed to sigh in relief under her touch, their tense muscles easing slowly. Arya cooed reassurance and fed them a few carrots that she had stowed away for their horses, which the new animals ate up greedily.  
  
"I guess that's it for sleep then," Arya said when she felt Gendry's presence by her side.  
  
"I'll feed the fire, and we'll pack up. Get goin' before dawn."  
  
Gendry threw his arm over her shoulder and drew her close. With a tired sigh, her own arms naturally slid around his midsection and her head rested on the swell of his bare chest.  
  
"We couldn't just make it to King's Landing without issue, could we?"  
  
He smirked and pressed his cheek to the crown of her head, "Guess not."  
  
"I don't know what would have happened if you weren't here." She confessed lifting her chin to look at him.  
  
"I do." He paused for half a beat, then looked her in the eye and smiled wider, "Sheep stand no chance against wolves. Likely those men would be dead."

She lifted to the tips of her toes and kissed the underside of his stubbled jawline, "Well, I'm glad they're not."  
  
"I am too."

~~~

By dawn, they were packed and ready to start their journey anew. The trip back to Sow's Horn didn't take long, despite dragging three men behind them afoot.  
  
Tarik helped his injured counterpart along and both spoke not a word. The thieving leader, however, mumble and moaned and deliberately faltered, trying to lag their progress by being uncooperative.  
  
The occasional and swift yank on his rope proved to be helpful in urging him along in a more timely fashion, an action that Arya silently revelled in.  
  
By sunup, they come up on Sow's Horn. The large gates had yet to be opened for the day with guardsmen posted around the top of the castle's battlements. There was a small cue of people awaiting entry, towing carts and pushing wagons. But they passed the line quietly, admits mumbled whispers and groans from the patrons awaiting admittance. She and Gendry need not explain their reasoning, the people of Sow's Horn would hear why they skipped the precession soon enough.   
  
"You there!" Arya called up the high walls as a guard came into her view. The young man looked down upon them with a scowl, but she continued on without acknowledging his disrelish, "We need to speak to a member of the King's Guard, at once."  
  
"Who's lookin'?" Another soldier barked.  
  
"Gendry Baratheon and Arya Stark of Storm's End." Gendry hollered up confidently.  
  
The guards gave each other a quick look, "Stark, as in the king's sister?"  
  
"The very same," Gendry replied.  
  
Regardless of the circumstances, Arya always felt a deep sense of pride wash over her when Gendry introduced her. It was the same feeling she got when he boasted or bragged about her, kindred to the faith he put in her. Like his compliments were the only ones set in truth. Like he was the only one who truly saw her, like he was proud of her and proud to be with her. Because, in truth, she knew he was.

Despite the warm endearment she felt from her smith at that moment she held herself cool. She slipped into her role as easily as slipping into a loose-fitting shift. She sat calm and confident atop Lucky and explained their situation eloquently and quickly.  
  
"These men came upon us last night. Intent on stealing from us." Arya hauled on the rope tried to the gagged leader as she spoke. The thief shuffled forward, taking short careful steps, glaring daggers at her with every movement. "This one is their leader. We've injured another and that last man was forthcoming and compliant. He tells us they're from the Iron Islands and that this man forced them into servitude." Arya explained.  
  
Without another word a door within this barred gate opened before them and three soldiers of the King's Guard filed through, their white cloaks crisp in the rising sun. They looked green, these men, fresh in their vows. Their armour was newly forged and gleamed a sparkling silver, the silhouette of Bran's three-eyed raven, depicted in mid-flight, spanned the front of each guard's breastplate. The man wore the armour well, proper and proud. They stepped in time with one another as they came to Arya atop her horse.  
  
She handed over the bandits. "Thank you, Princess Arya." The frontman spoke properly with a sweeping bow.  
  
Arya had to keep from rolling her eyes at the title he uttered, "You need more scouts. More men on patrol at night."  
  
"Yes, princess. I'll handle it myself."  
  
"See that you do."  
  
With that Arya and Gendry turned and took the way they came in, trying not to pay any mind to the gawking common folk as they passed. It was a regular reaction, she knew, one that she and Gendry both had been guilty of, a lifetime ago.

~~~

  
Back on the King's Road, they trotted easily beside each other, leaving Sow's Horn behind as quickly as they came upon it.  
  
The sun was warm and the morning light was still brisk. The air was dewy as they trotted along, the wind licked through her hair and filled her lungs.   
  
"Never a dull moment," Gendry said with half a chuckle as they rode.  
  
"Never."  
  
"Now that's through, should we race to the capital, Princess?" He suggested with a playful teasing glint to his voice.  
  
Arya gave him a side-eye and light-hearted scoff, "You'll lose, Smith."  
  
"Double or nothing on our bet then?" Gendry inquired again.  
  
"Never," Arya repeated using a click of her tongue and heels to urge Lucky into a long racing gallop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read my ramblings!
> 
> Liked it? Don't forget to comment on it!
> 
> Much love! xox


	7. Full Circle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, friends!
> 
> Long time no sees. Things are wild here in 2020, am I right?!. I'm still writing, but only very sporadically. Sorry in advance to anyone out there waiting "on bated breath" for ((any)) updates from me... I've just been a bit wayward lately. 
> 
> This story is going to keep its meandering pace. The slow burn vibes are strong with this one 😉 
> 
> Drop me a line. Don't be shy. Let's be friends.

It was clear they had been expected as they approached the Dragon Gate of King's Landing. The riders they met on the King's Road must have passed the gossip along, or the King's Gaurd allowed it to slip, or perhaps even a raven was sent.

Regardless, their arrival was welcome and evidently anticipated.  
  
Blank blue-grey banners, clearly of House Stark, whipped in the dusty southern wind, high atop the rebuilt battlement walls. Men stood guard along the outer perimeter, on either side of the entry and lined along the inside road. The buzz of city life flowed out to the Dragon's Gate, and inside the city was teeming with movement.  
  
Gendry slowed his house to match Arya's pace and gave her a quick side glance. It was a look she understood in an instant. She felt it too. But, she gave him a reassuring nod and dropped her hand to the pommel of her sword in good faith.  
  
Without so much as a side-step, they urged their horses through the gate, passing under the huge stone archway and into the square inside.  
  
Mounted atop a young black gelding, and settled in an elaborate saddle, Tyrion Lannister's saggy golden hair messed about his ears in the breeze. His posture straightened out as he watched them pass through the gates, a smile lighting up his strange mismatched eyes.  
  
"Lord and Lady Baratheon. It's lovely to see familiar faces after all this time."  
  
"Lord Tyrion. King's Landing looks better than ever." Arya said with a dip of her chin.  
  
"My lady is kind to say so. Coming from such experienced explorers, I take that as a compliment of the highest regard." Tyrion replied.   
  
The half-man turned to Gendry, surly awaiting some sort of customary pleasantries from him as well.   
  
He caught his cue, "It smells better."  
  
Tyrion beamed, "Ah yes. That would be from the new sewer systems, the water gardens, and the aquifers."   
  
"You've been busy."  
  
"His grace rarely sleeps." The Lord Hand replied with a slight bow.  
  
"Is it customary for the king's hand to greet all the king's incoming guests?" Gendry asked skeptically.  
  
"Heavens no. But when we caught word that you two were close, the king and I wanted a friendly face to greet you. Since your last visit here was so... unfavourable. His grace cannot move about freely, as you well know, and Samwell, he finds himself with less and less free time, these days."  
  
"A kind gesture," Arya said, passing a mild scolding glance to Gendry, who merely smirked back at her.  
  
"Come. You must be tired of travel." Tyrion encouraged his horse forward, and a line of guardsmen fell in time with him, "Your rooms await."  
  
They followed Tyrion through the bustling streets of King's Landing. The imp explained everything that had been improved on since they were here last in great detail, the lengths that Bran had gone through to ensure the people of King's Landing were safe and cared for properly. Tyrion spoke of their bountiful trades, of newly pledged allegiance and peace within the realms. He also boasted to the finest vineyards north of Dorne which housed fine grapes for an even finer wine.   
  
The kingdoms were flourishing again, marked and marred now only by past tragedy. Peace held the realm, thanks, in part, to the Wardens that set in each nautical direction. The Salt Queen and The Queen in the North helped where they could, aided when needed but kept their own kingdoms in straight order, aligned to King Bran in fealty and trust.  
  
Theirs was a common goal, and no one wished to challenge it. Not yet, anyhow.  
  
The streets that funnelled through the city were wider, Arya noticed, the newly erected buildings shorter than before, which allowed for more sunlight to reach the ground. Though the fires had scotched so much, it also left behind valuable minerals only found in ash. Dragon's ash, none less. Ash rich in nutrients that no one had seen in thousands of years; ash which was now tilled into fresh soil for garden beds. Rows upon rows lined the greying stones houses packed with fresh mortar, the green harvests swaying bountifully in the southern sunshine.  
  
As they rode Arya saw vines with dark green peas plump and ready to eat, tall verdant stalks reaching for the sky topped with bright yellow and multi-speckled ears of corn, towering sprouts of what she thought was amaranth, or maybe barley, and she even saw young fruit trees heavy in bloom. Every few yards or so water access broke up the pattern of green flora, replacing it with overflowing fountains and watering holes, crystal clear and sparkling.  
  
The city folk stopped to watch as they passed through the city streets, some with bowed heads others with heads held high, smiles on their weathered faces.   
  
Gendry made eye contact with each and every pair that met his, a small half-smile of knowing empathy pulling at his lips. These folks surely knew them from stories, songs or their sigils, even though the stitch wasn't on blatant display today. They carried no banners and had no crests sown upon their cloaks or doublets. But those who cared to look closely could see the wolf's head on the pommel of Arya's new Needle, or Gendry's war hammer strapped to his saddle and the yellow gold stag's antlers of his cloak pin. Of course, they had their crests combined, long ago, and there was no mistaking the rearing stag of House Baratheon or the charging direwolf of House Stark stood back to back and ready for battle. However one would find it stitch modestly throughout their travel attire. Which was, indeed, deliberate.  
  
They saw the hovel of the Sept of Baelor in on the horizon and passed the old location Flea Bottom, the likes of which had been turned into another strip of housing lush with more green vegetation. They travelled the new Street of Steel in the shadow of the ever ominous Dragon Pit. Their horses and caravan took them as far as the foot of the Castle Keep, where they dismounted and took the rest afoot.  
  
It was nearing midday, and the high searing sun proved that fact wholly. Not even halfway up the long corridors of steps and the ascent had everyone panting.  
  
"It's a lot of stairs," Gendry complained.  
  
Arya couldn't help but agree and as they climbed. She found herself watching her feet and counting her steps, one by one, to save from retching.  
  
**_I'm still not used to this heat...  
_**  
Tyrion was quite a long while before he puffed out a few short words, "It is. We're nearly there."  
  
He escorted them through the rebuilt Red Keep, weaving and, somehow, still talking.   
  
The keep was far less grand than it once was, and yet it was still ever-expansive. The red walls were patched back together with dark stone and ashen mortar, maintaining the castle's red facade, only now the people of King's Landing aptly called it The Ember Keep.  
  
After what felt like miles of walking they finally came to their chambers, set high above the newly thriving city below.  
  
"Here we are." Tyrion said as he caught his breath, "Someone will bring up your things shortly. Should you need anything else, all you need do is ask."   
  
"Thank you," Arya said.  
  
Tyrion inclined his head, "Your brother is expected today as well." He said to Gendry, "We're holding a feast for our guests this eve."  
  
"We'll be there."  
  
"Excellent. I'll leave you to it." The imp replied. He turned back down the hallway, taking all his guards in tow, like a mother duck and her dutiful ducklings.  
  
Gendry pushed the heavy door open for Arya and followed her within. Their chambers were large; excessively so. The rooms were equipped with a solar, bedchamber and dressing room with an oversized bed, bathtub and fireplace in each respecting room. The space housed high ceilings and smooth red walls decorated with lavishly embroidered tapestries. Large windows were thrown wide to take in the mountain views to the west and the sea to the east. Long rich drapes billowed in from a large open-air terrace where a second sitting area laid in wait.   
  
It felt all rather prim and proper. Gilded and ornate. A room fit for a highly esteemed guest, but not them. Surely, not them.  
  
Nevertheless, they made themselves as comfortable as they were able, ditching their riding attire and footwear as soon as the door was latched.   
  
A squire had taken their horses to the royal stables at the foot of the castle keep and would be ferrying their belonging up with haste later. But for now, they had nothing but the items on their persons.   
  
Arya wondered around their apartments barefoot, taking in the view and the rest of their lodgings, the cool slate floor heavenly below her throbbing feet.  
  
Within the castle keep King Bran's new sigil hung proudly and with care, the pitch-black three-eyed raven with his wings spread wide, on a field of slate blue-grey background. Arya had not yet seen it in person; his newly minted crest. She had only seen it pressed into the grey wax of his royal seal, painted by Sam into the corners of parchment scrolls, and on the armour of his king's guard, but not like this. Never like this. She felt a chill wash over her as she recalled her night in Winterfell's Godswood with Bran, the gods and fate.  
  
The sea stretched on for leagues as Arya took in the view, the hills rolled high and peaked to the west, in a varying landscape of rich green and yellow. The salty wind picked up a floral scent as it rippled in through their terrace window and she breathed the aroma in deeply. It was a scent so different from what she remembered of Kings's Landing smelling that it could have been a whole other world.  
  
"We made it."  
  
"We did."  
  
"We've come full circle now," Gendry said moving to also take in the view. Arya didn't reply but smiled to herself and she stared out into the big beautiful blue, the hue so near to her husband's eye colour that a woman would think one mimicked the other. "You alright?" He asked interrupting her thoughts.  
  
"I am."  
  
He stood in behind Arya and smoothly wrapped her up in his arms. She relaxed back and held him close, trying to ignore the warmth she felt sliding down her body as he pressed himself against her backside.  
  
"You seem quiet." He said softly against the shell of her ear.  
  
"I've just never felt comfortable here."  
  
"I know."  
  
"But it's all so changed."  
  
"For the better."  
  
"Seems it."  
  
They remained silent a long while, simply enjoying a moment's peace.  
  
"We're just visiting. Remember?"  
  
"I remember."  
  
"Nothing could happen here that we haven't faced before."  
  
She let a small smile spread fully across her features, "You're right."  
  
Gendry balked a moment, then asked, "Did I just win an argument?"  
  
She scoffed a laugh, "That was hardly an argument."  
  
He shrugged, "I still count it was a win."  
  
Arya snickered, "I must be tired."  
  
He kissed her neck, innocently enough, but still, she clenched her thighs together, trying to quell her building desires.  
  
"Have a rest then." He murmured into the crook of her shoulder.  
  
She hummed, "I might."  
  
"I'm feeling rather fine." He confessed almost playfully.  
  
Arya turned in Gendry's arms and reached up to kiss him. Their lips connected softly at first, chaste, gentle and lovely. But soon his grip around her middle tightened and their fever grew, giving way to a passion and relief she only felt in his arms.  
  
"You feel fine to me too." She said as they paused for breath.  
  
With a low growl, Gendry claimed her lips again in another searing kiss. As their kiss built Arya simply forgot where they were. She forgot their journey, their past and all that was left was the present; his lips and the power of his hands.   
  
But just as soon as they melted into the moment a heavy knocking interrupted them.  
  
"What is it?" Gendry called out, unmoving from his place wrapped around his wife.  
  
The door creaked open and a young girl peered inside, "Lord Edric is in the capital, my lord. I was told to inform you as he arrived."  
  
"Thank you. That'll be all." Arya replied for Gendry, actively dismissing the maid. She turned her attention back to Gendry and laid her head on his chest.   
  
He hugged her tight with a long sigh, a cheek rested upon the crown of her head.  
  
"I'd like to meet up with Edric." He said.  
  
"I'd like a nap."  
  
At that confession, Gendry took her by the hand and sweetly led Arya to their bed where she sat heavily with a huff. There, she removed her leather jerkin and unlaced her breeches for comfort. She pulled the extra fabric of her tunic from her pants and laid back onto the downy mattress. With a sigh, she felt herself relax as she made herself comfortable.   
  
It had to be the softest bed she'd ever felt and she couldn't help but groan. The instant she laid down she truly felt her exhaustion, deep and permeating in her travel wary muscles. As she settled in she could feel Gendry lingering, expectantly.  
  
"You don't have to stay with me." She said as her eyes fell shut, "Go greet your brother."  
  
"Aye?"  
  
She nodded, sleepily, "It's alright. I'm fine here. Just a quick shut-eye."  
  
"You're sure?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I'll tell them you're not to be disturbed then."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
Gendry leaned over and pulled a few pillows down for her. She moved them blindly under her head and sighed her appreciation. He kissed her forehead and she felt herself smile softly, again, while everything else started to fade into sleep.  
  
Arya still had ahold of Gendry's hand as she spoke drowsily, "Wake me in time for supper."  
  
"I will." He assured as he kissed her cheek and the back of her hand before leaving.

~~~

Arya's nap was blessedly dreamless and when she woke there had been a hot bath poured for her. Their saddlebags and other belongings sat stacked up neatly in a corner, with her clothing satchel easily accessible. The shutters in their room had been closed, torches and candles lit and a small plate of fine cheeses and fruits was laid out for her as well. 

With the shutters drawn, she wasn't sure the time of day it was but assumed it had to be close to supper. She stretched out her tired limbs and stood to undress. As she walked to their belongings she unwove her thick braided rope of hair. From her bags, she took out fresh clothes and her grey silken bathrobe and laid the threads neatly on a plush chair.   
  
Then, she strolled over to the tub and dipped a hand in. It was still hot and smelled heavily of flora and other sickly pungent perfumes. She frowned, as these smells were not what she was used to, nor what she enjoyed. Glancing around the bathing room she saw a few other oils in an assortment of sizes and coloured bottles. Rosemary and white sage caught her eye first, and she added a few drops of each, stirring the warm contents below with her arm. It wasn't perfect, but the floral smell was mixed with earthier tones now, which was more pleasing to her senses.   
  
Next, naked as a babe, Arya slid into the bath gracefully the warmth permeating and softening her travel-worn muscles. She groaned as soon as the water softened her, as it eased and lulled her. Steam swirled and rose when she laid her head back. The soft crackling of torches, the distant sound of music and laughter, of swordplay and court life flowed to her like a calming lullaby.  
  
Arya breathed deep and relaxed, her mind wandered and time slowed to a crawl.   
  
She soaked until her skin wrinkled from the water. Then she scrubbed herself pink and washed her long unruly hair before she twisted it up into a knot on top of her head. Just as she rested her head back again she heard the door open, followed by the heavy footfalls of her far from stealthy husband.  
  
"Arya?" Gendry called out, dropping his weapons on a table with a loud clank.  
  
"In here." She called back from the bathing suite, "Did you get lost?"  
  
"No." He followed her voice and was met with the sight of her naked body standing from the tub, dripping and slick. He swallowed the sight, and clearly his tongue, "Only a little." He managed quietly.  
  
Arya kept her back to him as stepped over the rim, preening under his surly heavy stare. Mindfully, she dried herself with a large linen towel, drawing out her movements for his enjoyment. She twisted her wet hair up with the towel and turned to take her awaiting bathrobe in hand, showing off all the while. She slowly pulled the soft silken fabric over her shoulders and cinched the belt around her slim waist, allowing the plunging neckline to reveal the valley between her breasts, along with a long strip of skin that led down to her navel.  
  
"Gods. What happened to you?" She asked as Gendry stepped into the light.   
  
He was smiling, so she knew no danger befell him. Still, he was all dirt, sweat and smeared. The laces of his jerkin were pulled loose and hanging, his tunic below soaked through to the skin. His face was red with exertion, hair mussed and slick with sweat, his knuckles were bleeding, his hands calloused, cracked and caked with mud. There was a clean swipe of skin across his brow, where he had undoubtedly wiped the sweat away with the back of his hand or forearm.   
  
Arya felt a stirring low in her belly at the sight of him. The look was not unfamiliar to the one he usually bore fresh out of the smithy. A sight that never failed to spark her hunger for him.  
  
"Edric," Gendry said, by way of explanation. She prompted him with a look, so he continued, "He insisted he check that I'd not gotten soft or forgot my finer training."  
  
Arya stepped towards him, footsteps that he matched with his own, "And?"  
  
He smiled, almost wickedly, "Milady would be proud."  
  
She nearly shuttered at his tone, "I always am."  
  
His dirty hands cupped her jawline then and drew her toward him. He bent down only slightly, urging her to raise to her tiptoes to catch his lips. The press was slow and unhurried, meandering and heedless but she could feel his adrenalin surging still, felt his heartbeat racing, felt his need pressed to her, felt his want, his desire.   
  
She was molten under his hands in an instant, every inch awakened to his slow but ardent touch. She held his biceps tight, fingernails curling into worn fabric, pulling and desperate for more, longing and eager for what would surely be served next.  
  
"The water's still warm." She breathed through the haze as he kissed along her jaw, and down the column of her throat.  
  
"Are you trying to tell me something, love?" He mumbled against her skin.  
  
"Yes." She sighed, "You're filthy."   
  
Gendry chuckled and dragged his lips past both collar bones before kissing her lips again.   
  
He was greedier with these kisses, rough hands catching on the smooth fabric of her grey silk robe as he drew her flush. She groaned and returned his vigour, pulling their bodies impossibly closer with greedy grasping hands.  
  
"You're filthy" She repeated as they broke for breath, "And we're about to feast with a king." With a smile, she pressed a quick kiss to his salty neck.  
  
He let out a small sigh of defeat, "Milady knows best."  
  
She hummed in agreement and slipped his belt free, pulling at the fastens of his jerkin next, "A fact you won't soon forget, I hope."  
  
Gendry grumbled halfheartedly as Arya helped him disrobe, only distracted by kissing every other moment. Finally, once he was bare he let his grip on her go and moved to dip into the scented soapy suds.  
  
"I'm likely to smell of a flower after all this." He scowled as he settled his body below the water.  
  
"And how do you think I felt?!" She replied with a laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!  
> Comments are worth more than gold to a writer.  
> Make my day, I dare you. 💙


End file.
